


The Bane of My Existence

by Kiwifroot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anxiety, Band Shenanigans, Depression, Epileptic Erica, F/M, Heavy Rock Band, Human Hale Family, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Derek Hale, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Sexual Tension, Sterek Campaign, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6185854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwifroot/pseuds/Kiwifroot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jobless, near broke, and dreading the possibility of returning to his home town, Stiles Stilinski is in trouble. When his friend Kira suggests that Stiles attend a rock concert for an up and coming heavy rock band, Stiles has no idea how that decision will change his life forever. Now, as the new lighting board technician for Derek Hale's band, Stiles must deal with band member shenanigans, deep demons that haunt his past and his mind, and a budding romance for a man who is as deeply wounded as he is. Will Stiles finally find a place that he can call home? Or will he find himself more lost than ever?</p><p>Expect delays and hiatus's. Constructive criticisms welcomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awestruck

**Author's Note:**

> A first for me in the Teen Wolf fandom, and on Ao3. I was inspired to work with a rock band au concept when I recently attended a Silverstein concert with my boyfriend at the Marque Theatre to be mentioned in Chp 1. I wanted to make this a one-shot, but I have too many ideas flowing through me to not do this concept justice. As you can guess, it will take place in Seattle (new territory for me so I can't wait to research), but will take place in other places as time goes on. 
> 
> I will focus more on the S1-S3b characters and relationships, as I have stopped watching Teen Wolf before season 4 started, and I have little knowledge of the new plot lines and characters (Tumblr helps tbh). 
> 
> Like I said in the description, expect delays or haitus's. I am in my third year of university with a busy semester, and I have other jobs and volunteer responsibilities on top of it all. Constructive reviews give me life and inspiration, so please leave them, and I will write when I can. Expect more chapters around school breaks ex. Christmas, Easter, Summer, Thanksgiving, etc. 
> 
> I am Canadian, so if you caught on to some of the extra u's I was throwing in, that's why. If you have any issues with the way I am portraying a specific element of the story (ex. Seattle), please message me. I do to in depth research in regards to new topics or places I write about, but no one is perfect. I am open to discussion and learning. I will not answer anything that is without a solid point. 
> 
> Lastly, I really appreciate you taking the time to read my work, and leave kudos or comments. It means a lot to me, and I hope to hear from you soon! Feel free to PM me if need be. Have a wonderful day and thank you again!

“Sooooooo I just got fired. Again”. 

It didn't take Kira more than ten seconds to reply to his text.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT FIRED?!?!?!”.

Stiles winced. He was sitting in his jeep, still in his KFC shirt. He had lost the hat when had threw it on the ground in front of his manager's feet. He fidgeted with his lighter, flipping it in between his fingers. Next to him, his phone began buzzing with an incoming call.

Sighing, he took it. “Don't yell please. And don't break anything around you.”

“I didn't, I took two calming breaths before calling you”.

“Only two? You're getting better”. 

“Stiles. Not about me right now. What—What happened? I mean, I know it's KFC, but it's been two weeks and I thought maybe--”

“The managers was an asshole”.

“Stiles, you said that about the last three managers you worked for--”.

“No, a homophobic asshole”. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles rubbed his lighter. “He yelled at this girl—Emily, the one I told you about-- who got hired with me, because he saw that she had a gay pride sticker on her backpack when she arrived for shift. He was saying some pretty fucked up shit, right in front of her, just screaming it. She started crying, then I yelled at him for being an ignorant asshole. I threw down my hat, asked her if she wanted to leave too, and we left together. I just dropped her off at her girlfriend's, I'm in some parking lot by her place.”

Stiles could hear Kira sigh on the other line. “Plus, he was giving me no hours, even though he said I'd be getting at least 18 a week”, he added. 

“Stiles, this is the eighth job you've had in a year and three months.”

“Kira, we don't count the pool cleaner job. Who knew I was allergic to pool cleaner? I can't believe you've been keeping track like this. I haven't even--”

“Stiles, that's not the point. You know what your dad said. If you run out of jobs here in Seattle, you'll have to move back in with him. He won't be able to bail you out on rent anymore.” 

Stiles clicked his lighter, leaned his head back, and softly sighed. He knew the situation, he didn't need Kira to remind him. He had been in between jobs with little pay out for so long. His dad, bless him, had once been able to help him cover his small one bedroom rent whenever he fell just short. But with one too many bail outs, his father had put his foot down. When Stiles went home for Christmas last year, his father and him came to an agreement. If he was ever kicked out of his apartment, or didn't have a steady job by the end of the year, he was to return home to Beacon Hills, California to live with his father. If Stiles did that, he may never leave his sleepy hometown. It was now October. 

“Stiles? You still there?” 

“Yeah, I'm here. Just thinking. I might need the night to think things over. I kinda want to be by myself right now”. 

“Okay, Stiles. Just...text or call if you need anything.”

“I will. Night, Kira. Break legs.”. 

“Night, Stiles. Break legs”.

Stiles hung up. He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, gripped the steering wheel, and laid his head on the rim. He growled, slammed his hand onto the rim, and instantly regretted that decision. 

“Fucccccck”. 

When Stiles had noticed that an older lady had stopped walking her dog to glance at him, he decided it was time to go home. He started his jeep and turned onto the street. He was quite a ways from his apartment yet, so in between traffic lights and merging lanes, he let his mind wander to how he had ended up in this mess. 

He was born in Beacon Hills California. He lived with his mom and dad in a big house just inside town. When his mom had passed away from cancer when he was 8, him and his dad wen through a rough patch. Fighting, screaming, crying and drinking, they were both able to pull through their pain when Stiles reached high school. Stiles grew to love photography, so his dad bought him his first camera, and later all his basic equipment and then some. Stiles would go on nature walks and show his dad all the unaltered photos after. His dad loved them. “You have a real talent, son”. Stiles thought that by supporting his passions, his dad was healing from the ache, or at least pushing it aside to focus on his son. 

It wasn't until grade 11 that Stiles met Kira. The new kid in school, Kira had a hard time making friends half way through the semester. Kira and Stiles had both 1st period English and 3rd period History with Kira's dad as the teacher. They bonded over music, and a mutual disdain for the so called popular kids in school. 

Kira was the one who pushed him to join theater tech when she saw that Stiles had circled it in his program book for next years classes. Kipling's The Jungle Book was next year's play. 

“You should try it out. Your dad did say you could use an after school class for college. It even says here that you can get volunteer hours for working outside of class. And I don't see a photography class offered next year,” she sang. 

“Okay, okay. Knock it off, I'll join it if you do”.

So they did. And Stiles loved it. 

He found his niche working the light board. Lights had always fascinated him; the lighting in his photos was either a key element or added a nice touch to his subject. He was a master at determining which light filter to use, where to position the fixture, and how dim to make the light. He never made a mistake, and grew passionate about working the lights. 

Kira was content to be a prop hand and be in charge of all the backstage props. No one ever fiddled with their prop when she was around. But she saw the class for what it was, just a class. 

Stiles, however, saw it as a passion. He could see it as a career even, especially after talking to his teacher about the University of Washington's program. He begged his father to let him apply. While skeptical of the job market, his father let him. Stiles applied, was admitted, and he left for Seattle that fall. Kira followed after him for a double degree in linguistics and history—much to her parents pride.

He had done well in his classes, was excelling in the art of light design, and ran several shows and dances over the course of the year.

Then, Stiles hit a wall. 

Half way through his last show, Stiles froze. He couldn't understand what was wrong, but he just stopped running the switch board, stood back and ran. One of the stage hands found him ten minutes later in the men's washroom, staring at himself in the mirror. He was yelled at by both the director and his professor. An understudy took on his responsibilities for the rest of the show. 

Stiles rarely attended classes, stayed in his room for most of the day, and wandered when he wasn't home. He failed his classes and left the university. When his father heard, he had wanted Stiles to come back home. Stiles said that he would get a job in Seattle in the meantime, while he figured himself out. “Maybe I just need time to sort myself out. When I'm ready, I'll go back and finish my degree.”

That had been a year and five months ago. 

He was running out of time to secure a job. Two months in with no complaints would be good enough to keep his dad at bay for the mean time. He was fortunate to have some money for rent, but not enough. Certainly not enough to buy groceries or top off his jeep. 

Stiles pulled into his parking spot in front of Hill Green Rental Properties. A brown apartment building with eight floors, it was in a modest area and had mostly young tenants. Stiles took the stairs to his third floor apartment. Unlocking his door, he peeked at his neighbors door to see that an empty can of tuna was sitting outside the door, again. Just as it had been every day since Stiles moved in. What a fucking weirdo.

His place was small, somewhat bare. He had old photos lining the walls around a cork board of mementos. Polaroids of Kira and Stiles. Leaves from the Reserve near Stiles's place. One of his mother's necklaces attached by a pin. The program for the Jungle Book. A photo of him and his dad at a Fourth of July BBQ with his co workers from the detachment. They were some of the pieces of Stile's old life, the good parts anyway. 

His camera equipment lay in one corner of the living room, gathering dust. He hadn't touched any of it since his breakdown. He kept telling himself he would go for a walk someday soon, but he hadn't yet. 

His room was a mess. Clothes everywhere, papers stacked high on his desk, his sheets all a mess on his bed. He crawled under them, and sighed. The blinds were closed, so he couldn't see the sun set out his window. Soon, the only light came from the streetlight across the street. 

Stiles didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to his phone vibrating. Kira was calling him. 

“Hello?” Stiles said abet groggy. 

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you?”

“It's fine,” Stiles told her as he glanced at his bedside clock. 11:23 pm. “What's up?”

“I know you said you wanted me to leave you tonight, but I wanted to see how you were doing and ask you something.”

“Um, I'm good now. The nap really helped.” Stiles stretched. “What's your question?”

“Well, a friend of mine in my Medieval History 208 class just gave me a free pair of tickets to a concert happening at the Marque Theater tomorrow night. It's a more hardcore rock apparently, but I figured it'd be a nice thing to see for free. Wanted to know if you were in.”

Stiles paused for a second. He hadn't been to a concert since his first year at university. He had loved rock music back in high school, especially the classics. Lately, Stiles had been just listening to whatever was on the radio at the time, not caring about keeping up with any particular band. He knew that Kira might really like it. Since she left high school and moved out, her tastes had shifted from “nice, pastel wearing sweetheart with a secret katana and a blackbelt” to “leather jacket over pastels with red lipstick sweetheart, and a still lethal amount of force and katana”. Rock music will change a person.

“Sure, why not.”

“Okay, sweet! I'll give you more details tomorrow, I just wanted to call and ask you. I'm passing out now, I reiterate that I really hate three hour late night classes”.

Stiles chuckled. “Roger, loud and clear. Night, break legs”. 

“Break legs, night”. 

Stiles put his phone on its charger. Slept came easy to him that night. 

~*~

Stiles slept for most of the next day. He alternated between sleeping, going to the bathroom, checking his fridge to see if food had randomly appeared, burning incense, and napping again. As little as there was in his apartment (a couch, a tv stand with a radio on top of it, photography equipment, a rug, and some incense he burned every day near the window), the place always seemed to be dusty and gloomy. 

By about 4 o clock, he heard a knock on his door. Kira was waiting outside. 

“You're not showering?”

“Trying the ol' natural look. Plus, it makes no sense to shower then go to a rock concert. I'll just get sweaty again,” Stiles joked as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. Stiles eyed Kira's look. Leather jacket, red lipstick, fur lined boots, leggings and a Guns N' Roses band shirt. Classic rock concert look for her. 

“So who is this band we're going to see?” Stiles asked as he went into his room to get his phone and wallet. 

“Wolfsbane,” Kira called from the entrance. “ My friend told me a bit about them. They're sort of new apparently. They came out of California and have only done a few shows on the west coast. They have one album out. The singer is apparently hot as fuck”. 

“Your friend told you he's hot as fuck?” Stiles came out of his room in a sweater and jeans. 

“That's what she said. Want to grab a bite on our way? My treat”.

Stiles stopped at the front door. “You sure? You really don't have to”.

“You can't go to a concert on an empty stomach. You can't burn calories if you have nothing to burn.”

“What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Maybe you helped me out a lot in a past life? Now it's my time to repay the favour”. Kira's smile turned into a grimace when she smelled the tuna outside. “The hell is wrong with your neighbour?” She whispered as Stiles locked his door.

“No idea. I'll drive, since you're getting food. I'm not on fumes yet,” Stiles answered Kira's worried glance. 

~*~

After a quick bite to eat at some burger joint, Stiles parked the jeep in the parking lot across from the Marque Theater. A bar/stage venue, it provided an intimate experience for bands and fans alike. It had two bars on either side of the dance floor and stage area, with a seating area to the right as soon as you walked in. 

Kira gave the bouncer the tickets and their ID's. After getting x's on their hands--fuck being 20--, patted down, and having a bouncer check Kira's purse, they were in. A merch table was off to their left, with a single girl standing behind the table, scrolling through her phone. The band had cd's, a few t-shirts, and some pins to sell. Stiles was impressed with the shirt's designs. One had a simple purple flower on a black shirt, others had a logo with a wolf's head and “Wolfsbane” written underneath. Stiles would have considered buying a shirt after the show, but the $25 dollar price tag urged him not to. 

Kira and Stiles grabbed two waters from the bar and went to stand on the dance floor. The dance floor had two counter islands near the stage and near the back where chairs would normally go. A huge disco ball, and hanging microphones hung above them from the ceiling. The stage was moderately big, but had an intimate feel to it considering the stage was low, and very close to the dance floor. 

More people were close to the stage, and many more were still arriving. Stiles took a look at the stage to see that a huge flag had been hung. A purple flag with the same simple flower was hung, with no band name accompanying it. A bass guitar, drum kit and three microphones were already on stage. 

“So, is there any openers for these guys?” Stiles nudged Kira.

“Doens't look like it. I think they are playing their album and a couple EP's. I think they may have another album coming out, based on their merch table. My friend paid $15 per ticket for her and her boyfriend, so I'm not surprised at all.”

Stiles and Kira waited until the show started. A sound tech went around the stage and checked cords before shining his flashlight to the back of the room. Stiles felt a bang of sadness. He didn't dare look back at the light board. The lights above them dimmed. 

A blonde girl in black tee and ripped up black skinnies walked on stage. Her hair was teased and curled like crazy. Settling down behind the drum kit, she picked up her sticks and flashed a bright smile behind red lips to the crowd. A few people cheered. She began hitting her bass drum, slowly and rhythmically. Next, a tall man in cuffed jeans and a black button up shirt walked on with a guitar and began to strum close to the tune of the drummer. Stiles almost didn't notice that a man had walked up to take his place by the bass guitar; he did so very quietly and quickly. Stiles definitely heard the next man come on stage, because the riff from his guitar screamed from the stage. He flashed a cocky smile, as he tore into his guitar, with the bassist keeping up with him, and the drummer slamming down harder and harder onto her drums. Four beats later, the lights went out on stage, with only the drums and the bass keeping up in a slow tempo. Stiles could see someone walk on stage and take their spot in front of the mic, but could not see them. It was then that the crowd went nuts. 

A spotlight went on centre stage. A tall man wearing a leather jacket stood gripping the mic and stand in his hands. His hair was dark and slightly spiked, he had a 5 o'clock shadow, his eyes were downcast on the stage, and Stiles could see a dark mark on his neck. He began to sing low and soft, the bass and drums following his lead. 

The sun has set,  
on my sunny days that have now just turned to black.  
From the day we met,  
I thought my rain had faded away,  
but no, I was wrong.  
So very wrong.  
But you, my dear, have tempted something deep in me now.  
You joked that I was but a sheep.  
Well now you've woken the wolf in me.  
And it seeks to take you away from your precious sleep. 

The singer screamed into the mic, and the band went into a frenzy. The singer ripped his leather jacket from his body and threw it behind him on stage, revealing a beautiful sleeve of tattoos on both his arms. Stiles could now see that the dark mark was a tattooed gray wolf across the man's neck. His muscles tensed as he sang into the mic, his passion seemed to be oozing out of him. The band worked in sync with one another, creating beautiful, soulful music. The crowd was going wild. The people near the front were pushing and singing along with the artist, while others in the back were swaying in motion. 

Stiles was awestruck. He couldn't keep his eyes off the singer. The singer would both scream and sing at different intervals, gripping the mic stand hard in his hands. When the song came to an end, the singer breathed into the mic. 

“Welcome. We are Wolfsbane. We originated in San Bernardino, and we are happy to be this far north to put on a show for you guys. How are you guys tonight?” The crowd cheered in response. “Good, good. If this is not your first time here, welcome home. If this is your first time being here, welcome to the Wolf Pack. The Wolf Pack is a community, a family of fans and us band members who are joined together for two things, to support each other and rock out to some fucking awesome music”. More cheering ensued. “Like a family, we look out for each other. We support one another, help each other up, and make sure the other is having fun. I see a lot more people are here than the last time we came here, so make sure you keep a look out for one another. And if I see anyone get kicked down or get groped, I'll personally come down ff this stage, and rip your throat out.”

“With your teeth?” A fan from the crowd yelled out. 

“You bet your fucking ass I will. Haha, okay now that we got the house rules down--”

“Tip your fucking waitress too,” the drummer yelled.

“That too. Now that that's said, we got a lot of stellar music for you guys, plus some new shit. But first, introductions. We have on drums, the Queen Bitch herself, Erica Reyes.” The drummer did a quick beat. “Boyd is on bass, Issac Lahey is on one guitar and Jackson-fucking-Whittemore is on the other guitar”. 

“Aw, Derek. I'd hope you play nice tonight.” One of the guitarists smirked at the singer. 

“I'm going to say... fuck that, Jackson”. The crowd at the front screamed “Fuck that, Jackson” in unison with the singer, like it was a running joke. 

“And you know my name. Say my name,” the singer sighed into the mic. 

“Derek Hale!”

“Say my name,” he said louder.

“Derek Hale!”

“WHAT'S MY FUCKING NAME?”

“DEREK HALE!”

“LET'S DROP!”

The band started up again into a fast paced song. 

“Holy shit, these guys are something. Eh Stiles?” Kira went to nudge Stiles in the arm. Stiles was still staring, mouth gaping open at the singer. “Well. I'm going to go get another water. Have fun.”

Stiles didn't even register that she had left. Stiles closed his mouth and made his way towards the front of the stage. He couldn't follow along with any of the lyrics, but he found himself jumping along with the crowd. He was almost smacked in the face when one of the guitarists—Issac?-- stage dived off the stage into the crowd. Stiles helped carry him along the crowd and then back onto the stage to finish off one song. Stiles noticed that quite a few songs were about heartbreak. Most had a theme of slamming doors, fighting, and the woman underestimating the guy in the plot line. Stiles assumed the guy was the singer, Derek, based on how passionately he sang those songs. The rest had more of a theme of sticking together, being with family, and leaving small towns and small minds behind. Overall, Stiles liked the music that was being played. 

He especially liked the singer. Kira's friend wasn't kidding, he was hot as fuck. His overall look screamed bad guy, with the heart and soul of a mature man. He had very toned muscles, and had tattoos everywhere—his shirt got lifted up at one point to show more tattoos before they were covered up again. The thing that caught Stiles the most was how passionate and emotional he was. He would scream and sing with all his energy, all his focus. Nothing else mattered when he was in the moment, just him and his voice. It was mesmerizing to watch. 

Derek did engage the audience a few more times, and joke with his band mates in between—Issac and Jackson seemed to have a bit of a playful rivalry—before the last song was played. Kira had come back to say that she met someone at the bar, but Stiles couldn't hear her well. The show ended with a bang, and then the lights went out, abet a little prematurely. 

“So, how did you like that?” Kira asked.

“It...it was awesome Kira. Thanks for taking me.”

“No problem. Oh, there's Scott.” 

Stiles turned around to face a familiar face. 

“Scott? Hey buddy!” 

“Hey man,” the two grabbed the others hand in a tight grip. 

“You guys know each other already?” Kira eyed Stiles. 

“Oh yeah, sorry. We went to a few parties together. Are you still dating that one girl from the drama program? Crystal?”

“No, we broke that off a while ago. She moved to France with her dad last year, last I heard of her. Crazy to see you man, what are you up to now a days? You don't go to Uni anymore?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, “No, decided to take some time off, work a little you know. Still wanna be a vet?”

“Oh yeah man, pre-vet is kicking my ass though”. 

Stiles chuckled, happy to have the conversation steered away from him. Then, he heard some people arguing. 

“What was that bullshit you pulled earlier? Shutting the lights off before the song was over? And what the fuck was that during “Roaming”? You know you can't just throw random fast lights in whenever. Erica needs to have her eyes closed so she can't suffer a fucking attack! You can't do that”

Stiles glanced over at the lighting board. Derek, Jackson, and Erica were standing around the switchboard. Stiles became aware that there were not very many people left in the venue.

“What if she were to have an attack on stage? Do you know how fucked that would be!” Derek was practically yelling with a slightly hoarse voice. 

“Listen man, I'm sorry. I thought the song could use more energy.”

“We already agreed that during her bit, you can go nuts,” Jackson crossed his arms. “Any other time during that song puts her at risk for an attack. We've warned you about this how often?”

“And what was that with the shut off at the end?” Derek said, “You know when the cues are”. 

“You know what,” the man behind the board said. “I quit. Fuck you guys not appreciating what I do.”

He started to pack up his things. 

“Appreciating what you do? I'm epileptic, you fuck! We've told you about this, and we've tried to work with you around it, but you're too god damn stubborn to do it anyway but your own god damn way,” Erica screamed. 

“Why the fuck would an epileptic join a fucking rock band. That's the most retarded noise I ever heard. Who the fuck is that stu--”

The man stopped when Derek slammed his fists down on the table and glared at the man. “Get out. We don't want your ignorance on our fucking team. If you aren't with the Pack, you're not with us. And we're better off without worms like you”. 

“Fine, I'm fucking leaving. Fuck that stupid Pack scheme you got. Fuck you guys”. The guy left in a huff. 

Jackson put his hands on Derek's shoulder, stopping him from taking a step forward. “Let him go, it's not worth it. He's a fucking tool anyway”. 

“Glad he's gone,” Erica rolled her hips. “Not so glad he's gone, because now we need a new lighting guy two days before our next show.”

“That was our second lighting guy too,” Jackson rolled his eyes.

“Fuck them both,” Derek huffed. “If they couldn't respect the band's needs, then I don't want to work with them. You're a member of this band, Erica. And I'm going to do all I fucking can to make sure you're safe when you do shows.”

“Thanks, Derek”, Erica smiled.

“Still doesn't solve our current situation,” Jackson sighed. “Where the fuck are we going to find an experienced lighting guy, two days before one of our biggest shows?”

“Right here!”

Stiles turned to stare at Kira in shock. She was smiling and pointing to Stiles in front of her. Stiles turned to have three pairs of eyes staring back at him. 

“Him?” Jackson raised his eyebrows. 

“Yes, him.” Kira wrapped her arms around Stile's shoulder. 

“Kira, the fuck are you--”

“What kind of experience does he have?” Derek stood tall and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Um...I have worked six full length plays, four dance recitals and numerous small plays and monologues, with me being head of lighting for all of them an-and being the only working member for a lot of them. And I have my diploma in lighting technologies from the University of Seattle.” Stiles could feel his stomach sinking with the lie he just told. 

“Have you ever worked a rock concert?”

“Uh, no”.

“Do you know anything about Wolfsbane, like our song list?”

“Not before tonight, to be hon--”

“Can you work with and accommodate an epileptic drummer, and not be an ass about it.”

Stiles paused and glanced at Erica. He straightened up. 

“I have never worked with or had to accommodate for an epileptic person, but I will damn well do everything I can to research and prepare accordingly for your guy's next show...assuming you guys hire me...of course. I mean...”. Stiles had become aware as he was speaking about how close Derek was getting to him. They were less than an arm's length apart when Stile's stopped rambling. Derek had been scanning him as he talked, accessing him accordingly. 

Derek motioned to the other members. They stood off to the side and talked for a few minutes. Erica motioned every so often, and Jackson would sometimes roll his eyes, and speak frankly to Derek. After some time, the three came back.

“So you can run a lighting board no problem?”

“Yes, and set up mics, check cables, hang lights, and do sound checks”. 

Derek stared at him. 

“I did a lot of technical stuff on my own in high school and sometimes at university too.”

Derek paused before he asked, “Would you be able to listen to all the songs off our set list, and have a tentative lighting schedule done for 2 days from now at 1 pm for sound and light check?”

“Absolutely”.

“Will you do research on epilepsy, listen to us—especially Erica-- on how we run lights, and what we expect for shows?”

“Yes, yes. Of course”. 

“Will you not be an asshole?”

“Ye—I mean, no I won't.” 

Derek stared at him. “Hang back out here, Peter will be out shortly to talk over legals and give you the old guy's lighting plan. He'll give you a contact number if you have questions. You are to be at the Showbox at the Market backstage door for 12pm two days from now. Peter will give you a pass. Welcome to the Pack”. 

And with that, Derek stomped off towards the stage, hoped on, and exited right stage. Erica and Jackson waved at him as they followed after Derek. 

Stiles stared at Kira before engulfing her in a hug. 

“Oh Kira, I love you so much! I don't know what I did to deserve you! Oh my God, I love you, I love you--”

“Whoa Stiles, it's okay! You got a job I'm happy for you!”

“That's a great job man!” Scott clapped Stiles on the back. 

“I have a job, with a cool band! Ugh, I can't believe this is happening.” Stiles squished Kira into a one armed hug, and held Scott's shoulder in his other arm. 

“Say man,” Scott said, “When did you get your diploma in lighting technologies? Don't you need two years for that?”

Oh. Right. 

Stiles noticed that a man in a suit had walked around the stage, and was heading towards them. He must be Peter, the man that Stiles need to talk legal talk with. The same guy who looked like he could be a lawyer. 

...Shit.


	2. Nervous

 

**Nervous**

 

Stiles locked the front door to his apartment, walked to his couch, and threw himself down on it. He had just had arguably one of the most nerve wracking interview he had ever had in his life. He played the scene over and over in his head for some sick reason.

 

When the man named Peter had approached him, he shook his hand. Peter's grip was extremely tight; Stiles had to use all his energy to not openly wince.

 

“You must be our new lighting manager. Please, follow me to back stage so I can go over some legal papers and get you set up. I am Peter Hale, Wolfsbane's manager and lawyer”. A stunned Stiles was handed a business card as they walked on, leaving Scott and Kira to be ushered out by the staff.

 

The card had the same flower on top of the card. “Peter Hale: Manager, Lawyer, Consultant” was written underneath with a contact email and phone number.

 

“If you have any questions concerning the band, please contact me.”

 

“Um...are you related to Derek?”

 

Peter raised his eyebrow and chuckled. “Yes, I am his favorite uncle”.

 

The two came up upon Issac leaning against a wall, fiddling with his guitar. “You better not let Derek hear that”.

 

“This way please,” Peter motioned to Stiles before he could ask Isaac anything. Peter had led him into a small office that Stiles could only assume was the bar manager's office. “Have a seat”. Stiles sat down across from Peter. Peter lifted a briefcase onto the table, opened it, and began shuffling through papers. “We need you to sign several release forms stating that you will be in a legal contract with the band, and cannot disclose any secrets, classified information, or gossip to any media source. There is also a form for expectations you will be required to follow while on the job”.

 

Stiles took the papers from Peter and began to read them very carefully. If his father had taught him anything, it was to read everything very carefully before signing his consent for anything. After a few moments, Peter commented on his through reading.

 

“You are very meticulous there, Mr...”

 

“Oh, Stiles, Stiles Stilinski”.

 

“Stilinski...Dutch?”

 

“No, Polish.”

 

“Is Stiles Polish too? And is it your legal name?”

 

“Um...on my drivers license and passport, it's Stiles. I haven't gone by my birth name since...since I was very young. It is on my birth certificate though”. Stiles kept reading the forms, hoping to avoid any talk about his mother.

 

“I see. Best to get all those little tidbits of information out of the way, yes?”

 

“Um...yes. No problem...I guess.” Stiles continued to read the contract. Besides the standard 'don't talk to the media', Stiles noticed that there was a specific name outlined in the contract. “Who's this...Kate Argent written here?”

 

Peter stared at Stiles skeptically. “Have you ever heard of Wolfsbane before tonight?”

 

“Um...no actually. My friend had tickets and I tagged along. Before then, I had never even heard of the band. No offense.”

 

Peter leaned back in his chair, his eyes glued to Stiles. “Kate is Derek's ex girlfriend. She has inspired many of the song's both the band and Derek have put out. The reason she is included in the contract is because Derek has a restraining order against her that includes a no contact clause. That means she is banned from talking to Derek, his family, friends, and by extension, the band. Because of your...unique position within the band, measures must be taken to prevent Kate from having any contact with Derek.”

 

“I'm sure I can go on any fan or gossip site to find out how crazy she is, right? Sounds crazy if you need a restraining order against her”.

 

Peter grinned. “Smart boy, being able to figure things out on his own without me explaining every insignificant detail”. Stiles wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic, but he did notice Peter emphasize 'insignificant'. “She's a con artist who is arguably good at disguises. Really, she's just very good at contouring. We haven't had any run in's with her lately, but it's best if you knew about her existence. I reiterate that if you are found to be talking to Ms. Argent, you are essentially breaking two legally binding contracts, and can face jail time for it. Understand?”

 

Stiles paused before nodding. He signed off on several lines in the contract and handed the forms back. Peter neatly stowed the forms away in a section of his briefcase, and pulled out another stack of sheets.

 

“This is the lighting sheet for the band, with cues and light patterns made for each song. Derek expects you to have this memorized by the time sound and light check happens in two days.” Peter pulled out a CD from a pocket in suit jacket. The same wolf on Derek's neck was biting into the band's flower, with 'Wolfsbane' written underneath. “I suggest you also memorize their CD. Listen, learn, love it, live it. They have two other EP's on their website—OfficialWolfsbane.com-- they usually play at shows, learn those too.”

 

Stiles took the CD and the papers from Peter. “Thank you”.

 

“Not a problem, my boy. I can't wait to see how you fair. Impress me with your prowess,” Peter leaned back into the chair, his elbows bent, hands behind his head. Stiles nodded.

 

“Anything else I need to do?”

 

“Oh yes, two things.” Peter reached into his pants pocket and threw a backstage pass at Stiles. He just managed to catch it without flailing. Peter walked to a box behind the desk and pulled out a black tee shirt. “You look like you could be a medium. Wear this to the show, a clean pair of dark jeans, and black sneakers. Professionalism is never a bad quality”. Again, the shirt was tossed to Stiles. Stiles opened the crumbled tee-shirt to see it was similar to the one he had wanted to buy earlier.

 

“Th-Thank you Peter. We'll be in touch”.

 

“Yes Stiles, yes we will be. Let me show you out”. Stiles let Peter lead him out of the office and into the bar. The only ones in the main area were bartenders and waitress's who were cleaning their stations. Stiles shook Peter's hand—again, Peter had an extremely tight grip-- and exited out the door. Stiles walked outside to an almost empty parking lot. Still worked up about the ordeal, Stiles reached into his pocket and began to rub his lighter. Stiles could see Kira and Scott sitting by the window of a nearby cafe. When they saw him, they left to join him outside.

 

“How did it go?”

 

“It went...okay, I guess. Their manager is a real lawyer, pretty serious dude..I think. Thanks for asking, Kira. What did you guys do?”

 

“Oh, we were waiting by your jeep, but then Scott suggested we wait inside and grab a coffee. I grabbed you a chocolate muffin”.

 

“My hero!” Stiles took a bite of the muffin Kira handed him. Stiles became aware of how cold it was outside. “I'm sorry for making you guys wait for me”.

 

“Are you kidding? You just got a job—a job!-- with one of the most successful new bands on the block! This is great news! I am so happy for you!” Kira hugged him tightly. “Plus, you are my ride home”.

 

“Oh, well I mean...Scott, you drove here right?”

 

Scott straightened up. “I did, but...I thought...”

 

Kira's eyes widened. “Oh, Stiles and I aren't dating! He's like a brother to me. I'm sorry if you got that impression”. Stiles could see that a tiny hint of blush had just risen to his best friend's cheeks.

 

“Oh...oh! That's okay, I really shouldn't have assumed. That was my fault.”

 

Stiles glanced in between his two smitten friends. “ANYWAY, thanks for waiting you guys. It means a lot. But I should get Kira home, I have a lot of research ahead of me. Hey, we'll catch you later, eh Scott?”

 

“Oh, yeah for sure. I'll see you guys around.” Scott waved to the two of them before making his way to a beat up Sunfire left in the parking lot. “Is that thing safe to drive?” Stiles whispered to Kira.

 

“Scott says it runs like a dream. He only uses in the winter, he drives a dirt bike in the summer”.

 

“I see,” Stiles and Kira climbed into the jeep, “So what do we think of Scott?”

 

“Well, he's a nice guy, you do know him already”.

 

“No, I meant what do we think of him, Miss Blushie”.

 

“I was not blushing! Was I?”

 

“Only a little bit. It was cute”. Stiles earned a right punch to the arm. Stiles joked and lamented with Kira until he pulled up to her residence tower. Stiles reached into her jacket pocket. “Before you yell at me...here you go”. He handed back her phone. She glanced at the phone, only to grin up at him.

 

“Do you think I should?”

 

“He would want you to text him. Trust me”.

 

Stiles hugged Kira goodnight, got back into his jeep, and drove off. It was late by the time he arrived home and found himself on his couch. When he was done lamenting, he rushed into his room to grab his laptop. He set up shop on his couch, and started burning incense. Firing up his computer, and then Google Chrome, he typed in the web address for Wolfsbane's band site. He began his search there, reading up on their origin story.

 

_“In February of 2014, lead vocalist Derek Hale, lead guitarist Jackson Whittemore, and drummer Erica Reyes met one night at a rock metal dive bar in San Bernardino, California. The three became regulars at the bar, where they began bouncing around ideas for forming a band. In June of that same year, they formed the band “Wolfsbane”, named after the poisonous flower that Derek had grown up around in his childhood. Later joined by bassist Vernon Boyd (prefers to be referred to by his last name), and guitarist Issac Lahey, the band began writing songs. They released two independent EP's in August of 2014. They were signed on by Phoenix Records in December 2014, where they recorded their first studio album, 'Wolfsbane'. The album was released March 2015, and was met with positive reviews. The band now looks forward to recording their second studio album and touring across the country. Album name and tour dates to be announced”._

 

Stiles skimmed through the rest of the website, and bookmarked the page that would link him to the band's two EP's. Next, he checked out fan base sites for more info on the actual band members. He was looking for more of the details he couldn't find on a professional site. He came upon a Tumblr fan page with short bios for each of the band members.

 

Erica Reyes: drummer for Wolfsbane from June 2014-present, and one of its founding members. Advocate for women's rights, lover of puppies, and an Instagram star under the handle: QueenBitch0x0; she's ready for the world to hear her unrelenting sound. When not jamming out, Erica is usually seen updating her Instagram, or walking her Great Pyrenees, Bo.

 

Issac Lahey: guitarist and backup vocalist for Wolfsbane from July 2014-present. An old friend of Jackson's, Issac was a little late to the party. However, his smooth riffs and quick beats fit in perfectly with the band. When not tuning his guitar or writing poetry, Issac can be found reading in cafes, or enjoying critically acclaimed movies (often by himself). Band mates Issac and Jackson are constantly in prank and dare wars with one another—for a tally score of past victories, please follow this [link].

 

Boyd: bassist for Wolfsbane from June 2014-present. An old classmate of Jackson and Erica's, Boyd was contacted when the band was looking for a bassist. Despite his quiet demeanor, Boyd can be a very polite to fans, and never refuses a photo or autograph. Boyd has stated that he prefers older pop punk bands, such as Green Day, Billy Talent, and recently Fall Out Boy.

 

Jackson Whittemore: lead guitarist and back up vocalist for Wolfsbane from June 2014-present and one of its founding members. A star athlete on his high school's lacrosse team, and a passionate guitarist, Jackson Whittemore has always strived for excellence. Extremely dedicated to his band, his guitar and record collection, and his fans, Jackson is always willing to join band mate Derek Hale in interviews to talk about the band and their direction. Band mates Issac and Jackson are constantly in prank and dare wars with one another—for a tally score of past victories, please follow this [link].

 

Derek Hale: lead vocalist for Wolfsbane from June 2014-present and one of the band's founding members. Derek is extremely dedicated to making and recording music. When he is not writing new songs for the band, and his own unnamed independent project, Derek can be found spending time with his family and friends/band mates. Is enthusiastic about tattoos and various art styles—including Tribal, Native, and East Asian styles.

 

Stiles searched up more fan sites, and continued on. When Kira texted him the next morning, Stiles had been up all night researching everything he could about the band.

 

“You do know that people need sleep, right?” Kira had texted him.

 

“Not when you have something important like this to focus on,” Stiles responded.

 

Kira knocked on his door forty five minutes later with a big bag of Chinese take out, and some herbal tea in hand.

 

“I have ginger beef, beef curry with rice, sweet and sour chicken, and meat dumplings. Enough for a small army”.

 

“You didn't have to do that.”

 

“What are friends for?” Kira was busy pulling out dishes and spare chopsticks before Stiles had a chance to say anything else on the matter. He picked up the tea package.

 

“St. John's Wort and Lavender? No offense but it sounds like it would knock me the fuck out. But hey, if you're drinking it, not my place--”

 

“You don't want any?” Kira turned and looked downwards. “It's good tea and I thought we could have some together. Like old times?”

 

Stiles turned to her, looking guilty. Whenever Stiles used to go to Kira's house in the afternoon, Kira's mother Noshiko would leave some tea and a tea pot in the kitchen for the teens to sip on. Stiles found it was a nice gesture, and grew to love tea as a result. He hadn't enjoyed a good cup of tea in forever.

 

“I guess I can have a little. It better not make me too drowsy though.”

 

“So, tell me what you have learned so far”.

 

Stiles started to show Kira all the bookmarks and printed pages that were collecting on the couch around him. Stiles did extensive research not only on the band, but about epilepsy in its many forms. He also revisited past lighting notes from his university days, and had begun to review the lighting schedule for the band.

 

“I was just re-listening to the band's album when you arrived. They're... really something else. I don't know much about music theory, but just by listening to them, I really get the sense that they mesh their sounds perfectly with one another. Under some of the screaming that Derek and Jackson do sometimes, they have some phenomenal instrumentals.”

 

“I was impressed with them last night. I was considering buying their CD, but didn't have time to last night”.

 

“Well, you should definitely buy it.” Stiles took one last swing of his second cup of tea. “You totally fed me tea that would force me to sleep”.

 

“Hey now, you're the one who wanted a first cup, and then another. Don't blame me”.

 

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me”.

 

“Exactly. Can I just throw these leftovers in the fridge?”

 

“Yes, please”.

 

Kira set to work on repackaging the food, putting it away, and cleaning their dishes. Kira noticed that a pile of bowls and plates were piled near the sink. Throwing those into the sink as well, she washed every one to squeaky clean perfection. When she went to grab their tea mugs, she found Stiles was sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep.

 

“Fool you once...”

 

Kira pulled Stile's comforter off his bed and threw it on his sleeping body. He immediately curled up in it, still fast asleep. Taking an overview of his apartment, Kira stuck around to dust, clean the ashes from his incense holder, and throw his clothes in his laundry basket. Before she left, she threw on the Wolfsbane playlist that Stiles had downloaded onto his phone. Placing it on a low volume close to his ear, she did one more overview of the apartment, and made her way out.

 

“Sleep well, Stiles”.

 

And with that, Kira left Stiles to sleep.

 

~*~

 

A dark room. The only light came from a hanging bulb.

 

_Stiles_

 

Stiles hated this dream. It did not come often, but he still dreaded every time he went to sleep, for fear it would come back. He was under the light now, looking, searching for a voice he recognized all too well.

 

_Look at the sun catcher, darling._

 

Stiles!

 

**Stiles, what's wrong Stiles? Are you ignoring me? Did I make you mad?**

 

Stiles dreaded hearing that voice. It was the last thing he needed.

 

**Stiles, listen to me!**

 

_You're such a wonderful boy, Stiles._

 

Stiles, I can't keep bailing you out like this. How am I to think that you're a grown adult if you can't make rent? What if I hadn't helped you pay for your jeep too? I have to start thinking about where I'll be in five, ten, twenty years, son. Just come home with me. You can save money that way, maybe get a job at the station.

 

**STILES! You're not listening to me.**

 

Son, just come home.

 

_My little Batman. Always there to look out for me and save the day..._

 

Stiles could hear their voices, but not see anybody. The room spun and spun around him as the voices got worse and worse, faster and blurred.

 

_My little Sti--_

 

I'm proud of you son. I just want to see you succee--

 

**Stiles, please let's work this out, I thought we had somethi--**

 

** YOU LET THEM ALL DOWN. **

 

Stiles began to run, run away from the light in the room, further and further into blackness.

 

**YOU LET THEM ALL DOWN.**

 

“NO! NO I-I'M TRYING MY BEST”, Stiles yelled into the void.

 

** YOU'RE A BURDEN TO THEM. YOU CONTRIBUTE NOTHING. YOU ARE NOTHING. **

 

“No, NO! Please stop!”

 

Stiles collapsed on the ground. He saw familiar friends and family, all with their backs turned to him.

 

** YOU HAVE FORSAKEN THEM. **

 

Suddenly, the floor fell out from under Stiles, plunging him downwards into darkness.

 

“No, NO!”

 

Stiles awoke with a start. It took him a few seconds to look around the room, recognize that it was his living room, and take a few deep breaths. He knew he had to calm down, or he would suffer through a panic attack. They almost always followed close behind a dream like that.

 

He stood up and went to light more incense, to find that his holder had been cleaned. Looking around, he saw that his apartment had been tidied, and his comforter was pushed off the couch—likely by the movements in his sleep.

 

_Aw hell, Kira. Why do you always help out such a loser like me?_

 

Sitting down on his couch again, Stiles reached for his lighter and began to flick it and rub it between his fingers. Stiles noticed that Kira had left his Wolfsbane playlist playing while he slept. He opened his phone to find that one of the EP's was playing. The song was almost over, and Derek's voice had returned to a soft, soulful tune.

 

_At the end of my days,_

_I hope to someday turn and see,_

_a pretty face, a lovely face,_

_who will see me for me._

_Oh, won't you please stay a while?_

_Won't you please take these bones_

_And mend them with your smile._

_Oh lonely heart, oh lovely heart._

_Please stay a while._

_I will hold you, and you will hold me._

_And we will become whole._

_Oh God, we will become whole._

 

Stiles paused the playlist, and ran his fingers through his hair. He found himself to be very calmed by the song. Or was it Derek's voice? Stiles didn't have time to ponder, as he glanced over at his radio clock.

 

_I slept for seven hours. I need to get back to it._

 

Firing up his laptop again, Stiles went straight to work, starting first with some YouTube videos of Wolfsbane's past performances.

 

~*~

 

The sky was dark and rainy by the time Stiles found a parking spot and made his way to the alley behind the Showdown. Keeping his hood up and his binder full of notes close to him, Stiles turned into the alley. Digging through his hoodie, he pulled out his backstage pass, ready to give to the bouncer posted outside the door. Looking over both Stiles and the pass, the bouncer waved him through.

 

Going through the hallway inside the door, Stiles came upon Wolfsbane's dressing room, where Peter was waiting outside.

 

“Stiles! Glad you could make it. Right on schedule. The band is just on stage helping with the set up. Follow me”.

 

The two did not have to walk very far to end up on stage. The stage itself was smaller than Stiles had expected, but the venue itself was huge. Stiles had read up on the place to learn that it could hold over one thousand people on the premise. Erica, Boyd, Jackson, and Derek were on stage, talking with the stage crew of the Showdown. Derek had just finished shaking someone's hand, when Peter and Stiles approached.

 

“Stiles is here. He is on time, might I add,” Peter waved to Stiles.

 

“Good. He's already better than the last guy,” Jackson put down a set of cables.

 

Peter leaned over to Stiles, “He always seemed to be anywhere from a minute, to seven minutes late without fail”.

 

“Well, I am a punctual person,” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly.

 

“Punctuality is one thing, skills are another,” Derek crossed his arms as he stared down Stiles.

 

Quietly gulping, Stiles managed to ask, “Are you guys almost done setting up?”

 

“Almost,” Erica said. “Just a few more cable to unravel.”

 

A skinny, olive skinned man walked up to Derek wearing a black tee shirt and dark pants. “This is Showdown's sound guy, Devin”. Stiles shook his hand.

 

“Pleasure to work with you. Do you mind showing me your lighting board?”

 

“Of course, man”.

 

When Devin motioned to the switchboard, Stiles went straight to work assessing it. Switchboards had some variations depending on its capacity and what it's being used for. This particular switchboard was not state of the art, but it was twice as big as the one Stiles had dealt with in high school. It even had pieces of scotch tape under most of the controls to state which slider went with which light.

 

“Are there any lights I can't use?”

 

“Just lights 3, 6 and 15. The first two are busted cause they need a new bulb, and 15 is unattached.”

 

Stiles began to fiddle with the board, figuring out what he had to work with. While the board was not brand new, almost every light was, meaning it had self filtering gobos, and LED lights. Stiles was beyond pleased.

 

“How do you like it?”

 

Stiles almost dropped before he realized that Derek was right beside him, observing the switch board.

 

“It-it's a good piece of equipment. I should have no problem working with it.”

 

“Did you review the lighting schedule?”

 

“I have it memorized to a letter. And, I made some...adjustments as well”.

 

Derek raised an eyebrow, his face stoic.

 

“You see, a lot of the lights you guys are using face the audience and very rarely go on stage, which is great for what you need. However, your last guy had some pretty weird choices for gobos and light schemes. I changed a few things to better suit the sound and the mood you guys are going with, plus I intend to focus more on just solid lighting for the audience. You guys have some flashing lights facing the audience, but I feel like those would be more appropriate during times where Erica is repeatedly smashing her snare drums, or when Jackson and Issac are doing that repeated riff in “The Woods”. The less you use flashing lights repeatedly, the less risk it poses for Erica.”

 

Erica, who had since approached the two by the table, gave a low whistle. Derek remained silent, his eyes focused on Stiles.

 

“Well, you sure impressed me. You did your homework”.

 

“Well, I did want to be considerate. I looked a lot into the Epilepsy Society's website and read a few support forums. However, I wouldn't mind talking to you sometime about the specifics of your epilepsy. The impression I got was that every person's is unique to them. But obviously that isn't something you tell a complete stranger, so whenever you're comfortable”.

 

It was Erica's turn to be speechless. “I agree with Peter, I like you,” she said after a few seconds.

 

Stiles rubbed the back of his head again, trying his hardest not to act awkward.

 

“Hey guys!” Jackson yelled from the stage. “Time to practice!”

 

Erica nudged Derek, who turned to follow her without a word. Stiles stared at their retreating backs, before snapping out of his thoughts to look over his notes. The band positioned themselves on stage. Devin went around, and had each of the members test out their equipment with various riffs and vocal ranges. When Devin shined his light towards the back, Stiles knew he was up.

 

Leaning into the microphone, Stiles tried to say 'What are you playing first?' but instead, a lot of feedback was heard. Stiles shut off the microphone in a rush. After the band had stopped groaning and wincing, Derek leaded into his mic.

 

“We're going to play 'I was a Fool' first”.

 

Stiles gave a week thumbs up, then positioned his hands on the board. 'I was a Fool' was one of the band's two EP's. It was Stiles favorite out of the two, the one that had Derek singing slower at the end. Stiles moved to dim the lights, bringing the stage into almost darkness. Erica counted the band in, and with Jackson's first rift, Stiles lit up the stage with a green and blue gobo. The song instantly went into a faster pace. Stiles moved the lights as need be, following along with the bands movements. Towards the end, Stiles felt himself slip once, when he missed on of Boyd's beats before flipping the next switch. He winced, but continued on. When Derek's solo came on in the end, Stiles started with the purple light that had originally been written in. However, as the verse went on, Stiles faded the light from purple to gold, finishing with Derek bathed in a golden light, before the song ended.

 

“Break!” Derek called from the stage before jumping off. “You were too early.”

 

“I know. I know, I forgot that it went on for one more beat.”

 

“Aw, Derek, leave him alone,” Erica called as she jumped off the stage. “He did a great job. I really liked the lighting at the end. It was a perfect touch”.

 

“Than-Thank you Erica, I just interpreted it as a more positive light to end on. The purple is good, but it really couldn't stay for the whole verse”.

 

Stiles glanced at Derek, to see his eyebrow was raised.

 

“You did a good job, Stiles,” Issac joined the group, followed by Boyd.

 

“Don't worry about the missed cue, it happens,” Boyd spoke up. Stiles smiled.

 

“Hey guys, if we're done our praises, we got an hour for check before Banshee's crew moves in,” Jackson called from the stage.

 

“Wait, Banshee is playing after you guys?” Stiles raised his eyebrows and lowered his jaw. Banshee was the stage name for Lydia Martin. Part time singer, part time model, she was a rising star in the music world. Originally just called by her name, she acquired the nickname “The Banshee” from earlier critics for her soulful and haunting voice. She would later change her stage name to suit the fact. While her music ranged from pop, to opera, and soft rock, her songs were largely about heartbreak—she had been in numerous relationships over the years. To say Stiles was a fan was an understatement. He had all her songs on his phone and had always wanted to see her live.

 

“Oh yeah, no one has told you? She likes our band and wanted us to cover for her while she was in town. 'The Woods' is next by the way,” Erica told Stiles before the band went back towards the stage. The band took their positions, and started up again. Stiles tried his hardest to push Banshee from his mind as he moved his fingers across the buttons and switches.

 

After going through the set list twice, the band was overall happy at where they were for the performance. While Stiles did only miss one more cue, Derek did not comment on the fact. They were clearing away or covering their equipment when the Banshee's crew came on stage.

 

Stiles looked as through he was going to pee his pants. The idea of seeing Banshee, let alone doing a show before her was too much to take.

 

“If you want to see the show, you're more than welcome to stand backstage with me and watch,” Erica raised her eyebrow when she noticed Stiles expression. Stiles couldn't say anything, so he just nodded enthusiastically.

 

As they were walking off stage, they found Jackson leaning his arm against the wall, he turned when he heard a voice behind him. Stiles heard her before he saw her.

 

“Could you make sure I have two water bottles behind the amp? There is no way one bottle is going to cut it, I was dying last show. Thanks Debbie, you're a doll”.

 

And there she was. Miss Lydia Martin, aka Banshee, was walking towards them. A little shorter than Stiles, but only just so in her high heels, she looked stunning. Stiles assumed her relaxed waved and minimal make up was her everyday wear, but she still looked stunning in Stile's eyes. She glanced at Erica and Stiles, but eyed Jackson.

 

“Hello, Jackson.”

 

“Long time no see, eh Lydia?”

 

“Not long enough”.

 

And with that, Lydia walked on stage, he assistant behind her. “Okay, boys. Let's make this quick, I have some light reading to do before the show”.

 

Erica and Jackson walked off backstage, but Stiles was frozen for a few seconds. “W-What wait! Jackson, you know Lydia Martin?”

 

Jackson turned, “I was her first boyfriend back in high school”.

 

“No way!”

 

Jackson gave Stiles a look and a shrug. “Ancient history. We're okay now”.

 

Erica leaned into Stiles when Jackson walked on, “They dated for almost two years back in high school. Apparently they were a real power couple, but Jackson was a real ass back in early high school. He broke up with her when his family moved away. They've talked since then and patched things up, but I think Lydia is still a little bitter. If things were still bad, there is no way either of them would do a show together, right? Don't worry, she dated some other asshole after, and he's the one that inspired her career. And Jackson's less of a douche now. Still a douche, but less so”.

 

They came up upon Issac strumming his guitar outside of the band's dressing room. Jackson walked up to Issac, reached for his guitar, tuned it slightly out, and walked in.

 

“Fuck you, Jackson”, Issac shouted.

 

“Love you too, Poe”.

 

Erica stopped at the entrance. “Want a quick tour?”

 

“Are you sure it's okay?”

 

“If you're going to be a part of our crew, you might as well see a little bit of how we work. Don't worry, I like you, so if someone says otherwise, I'll kick their ass”. Issac, who was still tuning his guitar, raised an eyebrow.

 

They walked into a sizable dressing room. Three mirrors lined one wall, with vanities underneath. One held makeup, that Stiles could only assume was Erica's. On the other side was a couch and a chair. Boyd sat on one end of the couch; head phones in, world tuned out. Derek sat on the chair, a book in hand. Stiles couldn't see the title on its sleeve, but it was a thicker than average book. Derek was half way through it. Jackson was taking off his shirt and switching it for anther one on one of the racks.

 

“And this is a typical pre-show atmosphere,” Erica raised her arms, “Pretty quiet compared to our shows, eh?” Stiles nodded.

 

“Erica, what is Stiles doing here?” Derek raised his eyes from his book.

 

“What do you expect me to do? Kick him out into the alley until show time, like some lost puppy? Fuck that. If he's gonna be a part of the Pack, he might as well see what the Pack does.”

 

“He isn't Pack yet,” Derek rose from his seat. “He has to earn that”.

 

“He will, won't you Stiles?”

 

They all turned to face Stiles.

 

“You b-betcha”.

 

Issac walked into the room and set his guitar down. “Boyd, Jackson, want to run for McDicks?”

 

“I'm down,” Jackson said as he reached down to pat Boyd on the shoulder. Looking up, Boyd nodded.

 

“Same orders?” Issac asked, pointing at Erica and Derek.

 

“Can you make sure they put extra pickles on my burger this time? And just a regular burger, not a quarter pounder. I gotta watch my weight.” Erica rolled her hips.

 

“Erica, you look great. No diet needed. In fact, I'm sure people regard you as Aphrodite on the street. ”

 

“Nice flattery, Issac. Won't get you far though”. Jackson was laughing, slapping his knee as he stopped himself from rolling over, while Boyd looked strangely optimistic about Erica's answer.

 

“Derek, you want anything? Sandwich from a grocery store okay?”

 

Derek nodded before returning to his book. The boys followed each other out, Jackson's car keys rattling in his hands.

 

“No fucking messes on my seat this time, you bozoos,” Jackson yelled before the backstage door slammed shut, leaving Erica, Stiles and Derek alone in the room.

 

“Want to go wander?” Erica suggested, motioning to the door.

 

“Yeah, sure”. Stiles glanced at Derek to see that he was engrossed in his novel.

 

“Don't worry about him, he'll be into that book 'til show time”.

 

Erica lead Stiles out into one of the spare back rooms where equipment was stored.

 

“Can we be in here?”

 

“No one says we can't be”.

 

Erica took a seat down on one of the crates, and Stiles joined her.

 

“Is that a normal thing, the food runs?”

 

“When you're a band at an event with no free food, yes. McDonald's is usually the go to, but we can eat anywhere. Except Derek, he tends to shy away from fast food. Something about keeping his body fit and everything. He likes sandwiches, so they usually pick up a grab and go one from a grocery store. Not convenience store, grocery store. Apparently there's a difference.”

 

“So Derek is the healthy one of the group?”

 

“You can say that. He's the most conscientious one anyway. That's usually followed by Jackson, me, Boyd, then Issac. I would like to say I eat healthy, but I like food more than I like my looks. Jackson is the opposite, but he somehow has flawless skin anyway. I blame genetics, the lucky bastard.”

 

“That's something.”

 

“And Derek also likes his quiet. You would never think it based on the way he acts on stage, but he's pretty reserved and quiet all other times. He doesn't let Issac into the room if he's strumming and tuning his guitar, and Boyd has to have head phones in. He says it's so we don't wreck our eardrums before the concert, but I think he's a scrooge who just likes some goddamn peace and quiet”.

 

“Will he kick you out?”

 

“He has in the past, especially if I try and get him into one of my Instagram photos without telling him. Same with Jackson though, the drama queen.”

 

“You know, I would have never guessed that Jackson is that dramatic”.

 

“Really?”

 

“No, the guy oozes drama and pretentiousness. It just flakes off him, like dandruff,” Stiles said dead panned.

 

Erica almost rolled off the crate, she was laughing so hard. When she finally sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes, she managed to say, “Oh my God, that's good”.

 

“Thanks, I'm here all night”.

 

“To be fair to Jackson, he is not as bad as he could be. Man, I wish I would have known you back in school”.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

Erica held her hands in her lap, breathing slowly to regain control. “I didn't have many friends in high school. My epilepsy was bad, you know. I had at least two attacks once a semester. People thought it was contagious back in middle school, and an inconvenience in high school. I don't know, if I had a friend like you who knew more about it, it would have been better. I really appreciate you taking the time to educate yourself and be so understanding, you know?”

 

Stiles looked Erica over. She had become tighter, moving closer into herself as she talked to him. She didn't look at him.

 

“Well, what kind of lighting guy would I be if I was so inconsiderate?” Stiles said, as he slowly placed his hand on her shoulder.

 

“Thanks, Stiles. We should head back though, the guys will be back any minute”. Erica made her way to the door.

 

“Hey Erica?” She turned. “I would have been your friend if I had known you back then”.

 

Erica took three steps towards him and engulfed him in a hug. Stiles was frozen, but melted away enough to return the hug.

 

When they returned, the guys were back in the room, handing out food.

 

“There you guys are,” Jackson said. “Food's getting cold”. He handed Erica her sandwich and a bottle of water from their cooler. Boyd looked away, frowning as he reached into a grocery bag, handing Derek his sandwich.

 

“Chicken?”

 

“It was either that or tuna,” Issac shrugged. “No roast beef. Hey Stiles, we forgot to ask what you wanted before you left, so we grabbed you some curly fries. Is that okay?”

 

Stiles was taken aback, but smiled. “That's great man, I love curly fries. That was considerate”.

 

“It was Boyd's idea”.

 

Boyd just shrugged at Stiles before chowing down on his Big Mac. Somehow, Boyd didn't seem all that warm since Stiles and Erica arrived back together.

 

The gang largely ate in silence, with one small argument between Issac and Jackson about getting the other ketchup.

 

“Give it”.

 

“Get it yourself”.

 

“It's right beside you”.

 

“Jackson, give Issac some ketchup packets,” Derek sighed, with a slight bit of hostility in his tone. Jackson threw the packs at Issac, where one hit him in the cheek.

 

“Ass”.

 

After a while, a stage manager came up to the room to let them know they had an hour until they were on.

 

“I need to fix up my makeup,” Erica sighed as she went to her claimed vanity.

 

“Hey Erica, you got anymore of that foundation?” Jackson asked. It was tossed lightly to him out of Erica's make up purse.

 

“I don't get why you wear that shit man,” Issac said. “It'll wash off with sweat anyway. Least Erica is behind a drum kit if her make up smudges”.

 

“It's waterproof, dumb ass. You could wear it to the beach and not sweat it off”.

 

“I don't think it works that way, Jackson”.

 

“Shove it, Hemingway. I'll do what I want”.

 

“You should get up in front of stage and set up,” Derek motioned to Stiles.

 

“Right,” Stiles frowned. “I'll see you guys on the other side. Break legs”.

 

Stiles could here the band as he walked out the door.

 

“Did he say break a leg, or break legs?”

 

“The last one?”

 

“Hell's that mean?” A twang was heard from the room.

 

“Jackson, if you touch my guitar one more time, _I'll_ break your legs”.

 

“Shut up!” Derek finally yelled.

 

Stiles made his way out to the front of the stage. The room was filling up, with a couple of patrons already squishing nearer to the front. Stiles took the stairs down and walked around the crowd. Finding his way to his station, he opened up his binder, and put on his head set. Conversations and check ins were already going on over the feed.

 

“Stiles on headset, Wolfsbane's lighting crew checking in.”

 

~*~

 

The crowd was noisy with conversations when Stiles got the a-okay from the sound crew on stage. He radioed in on the headset, and brought the house lights down. The crowd began to scream. The stage lights went out too, just enough to cover the stage in black, but not enough to leave the band members unaware of where they were walking.

 

Erica went on stage first and did her drumming. Issac, Boyd, and Jackson joined her on stage, taking their places and following in tune with her. When Derek walked on stage, a cheer erupted from the crowd. Stiles threw the spotlight on Derek.

 

“Welcome, Showdown Theater, are we ready to rock?”

 

Screams answered Derek's question.

 

“We are Wolfsbane, and we are here to keep you screaming. LET'S DROP!”

 

Stiles threw up the lights, and went to work. He kept in tune with the band, not making any mistakes. Lights went on and off, and cool designs and patterns followed the flow of whatever song was playing. The band was serious for most of the songs, but the crowd seemed to love whenever Jackson and Issac got a little silly with their performance. Overall, while the atmosphere screamed hard rock, the overall mood was lighthearted. Most of the audience members were there for Banshee, so there were some uninterested parties. There was no moshing because of that, and the stage was too far away from the barricade to warrant any stage dives.

 

At the end of their set list, Derek thanked the crowd, and told them Banshee would be on shortly. He also mentioned that if they liked what they heard, their merch table was near the front doors. Banshee's lighting manager had been waiting with Stiles in the booth since the beginning of Wolfsbane's last song. Shaking the man's hand, Stiles gathered his things and made his way towards backstage. He passed Banshee's stage crew, and made his way to the band's dressing room. Inside, he found them celebrating.

 

“That was awesome!” Issac fist pumped the air. “That was one of the biggest crowds we've ever played for.”

 

“It was good,” Boyd smiled, slapping his band mate on his back.

 

“They weren't there for us, but it was cool,” Jackson shrugged.

 

“Hey now, any publicity is good publicity. I'm just glad Lydia gave us the opportunity,” Erica smirked.

 

“Erica is right,” Derek said. “We put our all into the show, and if we got more people interested in Wolfsbane, it was a success”.

 

“Of course, you couldn't have done it without Stiles,” Peter said from the doorway. Stiles jumped but stopped himself from saying anything when Peter walked passed.

 

_Where the hell has he been all this time?_

 

“Cora will need me back at the table here right away, but I wanted to congratulate the band. It sounded great. But Stiles did an excellent job of lighting the show. I saw that there were no mistakes,” Peter leaned his head towards Derek.

 

Sighing, Derek said, “You did well. You can stay on with us, provided you do your job well”.

 

Erica cheered and the other boys smiled. Even Jackson raised his eyebrows, smiling to himself.

 

“Stiles, would you join me outside, please?” Peter motioned to the doorway. When Stiles and him were away from the door, Peter reached into his suit pocket.

 

“Here is your first check. You will be paid at the end of every show you work. There is a practice the day after next, I will call you with the details. I have to go back and help my niece, so excuse me. Don't spend it all in one place, now.”

 

Stiles watched him walk away before he unfolded the slip of paper. He stopped. The amount written was just enough to cover his month's rent, buy two weeks worth of groceries, and finally fuel up his car. He even had a little left over for himself.

 

Stiles could have cried. Instead, he placed it carefully in his wallet, hugged Erica as she waited for him outside the door, and walked inside the room. He was met with smiling faces. When Banshee went on stage, Erica lead Stiles to a spot backstage where they could watch the stage. Banshee was putting on a phenomenal show. The rest of the band later joined them just off the side and watched the show together. At one point, Banshee thanked Wolfsbane for opening for her. Derek motioned to his band, and they went on stage. Waving and bowing, Erica stopped at one point, waved to Stiles and smiled. Stiles felt as though Erica had become a new friend to him in that moment.

 

Stiles had to stop himself from crying. He felt more joy in that moment than he had in a long time. He wanted to savor this moment, while it was still in the present, just between his fingertips.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter started after I was done working on the first one, but only just finished it today. 
> 
> I have so many ideas for this story, but woe, so little time and energy. I'll keep working at it though. I hope you guys like it so far! Feel free to drop me a line about what you think!
> 
> Also, really sad that I had to re format the dream sequence when I uploaded it here. I had some really cool ideas with fonts. Oh well, I made due. 
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read! I hope to update soon!


	3. Breathless

Stiles had been in lighter spirits since the concert.

He had called Kira from his car, after all was said and done, to tell her how the show went. She was extremely happy for him. After the show, Erica had managed to ask Lydia for an autograph on a spare McDonald's napkin. Stiles was on the verge of tears when she gave it to him.

“This is the best day of my life,” Stiles had whispered to Erica as he engulfed her in a hug. She paused when she pulled back from him—her expression indistinguishable-- before smiling. She cheered along with him, while the band looked on in amusement.   
  
Stiles had gone to bed that night with a smile on his face. He awoke early enough the next morning to make himself a coffee, get showered, and head to the bank just as its doors were opening. Having cashed his cheque, he went and got gas, then headed to the local Urban Save by his place. As much as he would have loved to splurge on all the snack items he loved, Stiles stopped himself. He hadn't heard any news about when Wolfsbane's next show would be, meaning that he might very well have to wait anywhere from a few days or a few weeks for his next paycheck. He bought what essentials he needed, and more ramen noodles. He did however get one small tub of Oreo ice cream, just for a small treat.

He later knocked on his landlord's office door, his rent check in hand.

“You still owe me half of last month's rent,” his landlord didn't even look up from his newspaper. Bollywood music could be heard from the little radio above the filing cabinet.

“Mr. Rapoor, I will be happy to pay it here within the next two weeks. I just got a new job, and I only just got paid last night”.

“You know my policy, you signed the contract. I can forgive late checks only three times. Three late strikes, you're out. You already used one strike. Do you want to use another? I am a very patient man, Mr. Stilinski, you know this, not many leasers will do that for their renters”.

Stiles had to keep his face neutral. It was not like he hadn't heard Mr. Rapoor's speeal for what seemed like fifty times already.

“I would like to use my second strike, and pay you the rest of my balance in two weeks.”

“Very well, Mr. Stilinski. Two weeks, I shall mark it in my calendar.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rapoor. I have a good feeling about this job. I will pay you in two weeks.”

“Yes, yes, close the door tight behind you,” the landlord waved his hand, returning his attention to his newspaper.

Stiles couldn't be happier. He had not felt this happy for a very long time.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. Stiles was chopping some carrots when his phone rang. It was his dad.

“Hi Dad, how are you?”

“Oh, I'm good son, just on a quick break. It's been a while. I wanted to check up on you. How is the KFC job going?” Stiles could tell his father was a little hesitant to ask towards the end.

“I actually quit that job but--”

Stile's father sighed on the other end.

“Dad, wait I have good news though!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I actually got a new job! As a lighting technician for a band!”

“Oh..oh really? Well...that's great news, son. Who's the band?”

“They're called Wolfsbane. They are a little bit of a harder rock band, but I did my first show with them, and I got paid yesterday and—”

“You got paid already? That's great son! Is it enough? Are you happy with it?”

“Oh yeah I am! It helped cover rent, I stocked up on groceries, i-it's really helped a lot”.

“So how long have you been working with them?”

“About three or four days now”.

There was silence on the other line. “Stiles, is this job a commission gig?”

“Um...yes. I did my first show with them last night. They have a practice going on tomorrow.”

“And when will their next show be?”

“...I don't know. But trust me, it will be--”

“Stiles, do you remember our arrangement?”

“Yes Dad, but this job is different, I can do this.”

Pausing, his dad sighed. “Are you sure you can hold out? I trust you son, but you haven't done lighting since--”

“It's different this time. It feels...good. I feel great, like this is a perfect fit for me”.

“...Okay son. I believe you. But please, remember we have a deal. If it lasts until the end of the year, I will re-negotiate with you. Deal?”

“Deal”.

Stiles continued to catch up with his dad, until he heard a very familiar pager beep from the other line.

“Sorry son, gotta run. We'll talk soon. Love you”.

“Love you too, Dad. Bye”.

Clicking off his phone, Stiles set it down on the counter. He stood in front of his stove, reflecting before shutting off the burner. Stirring the stir fry he had created, he went to his couch. Eating slowly, the weight of the phone call pulled on his mind.

_I won't disappoint him. Not this time._

Stiles turned to his laptop. He had Wolfsbane's website open. Near the bottom of the page was a photo of the band. The forest the band was posed in front of reminded Stiles of the forests around his hometown. Stiles could tell the photo was done by an amateur, as the focus of the lens screamed that of a digital camera. Stiles had five different ideas regarding how he would have done the photo, before he stopped himself.

Staring blankly ahead, Stiles glanced at his photography gear. It had sat collecting dust for so long. Stiles often glanced at it, but nothing could bring him to actually touch his camera.

Standing up, Stiles walked over to his small linen closet. Besides a few cleaning supplies, a Swiffer mop, and some moth balls, Stiles stored an extra sheet and pillow case on the shelf. Dragging the sheet down, he unfolded it. In one swift motion, he covered his camera, tripod, various lens, and other gear under the sheet.

_I should have done that a long time ago._

Sitting back down again, Stiles continued to eat his stir fry. Later, he called Peter to confirm when and where he would be meeting the band for practice.

“The Foss Shipping Yard?”

“Just before the yard, in the warehouse off Nickerson Street like I said. An old client of mine couldn't pay off his legal fees, so we came to an...arrangement. He gives the band one of his warehouses as a space to practice and let them practice there at a standard rate for what a normal studio rate would charge. But instead of paying, he just keeps track of the hours, and uses that to help pay off his fees”.

“Sounds like a round about way to get a free rental space. How long will that arrangement work out for?”

“At least another year and five months. My services don't come cheap”.

Stiles shivered, hoping Peter couldn't tell the difference. Peter chuckled on the other line.

“The practice starts at 11 am officially, but it may be in your best interest to be there five minutes before. Remember, punctuality is professional.”

“Y-yes of course. I will meet them there. Will you be there?”

“Alas, I cannot be. I have court tomorrow. You won't be alone with them however, I will send a friend. Oh, I have to run, ciao Stiles”.

Stiles listened to the dial tone before hanging up.

_A friend?_

Stiles shook his head. Sitting on the couch again, he brought his laptop onto his lap. Opening a new tab, his fingers light against his keyboard, he began typing.

~*~

The weather had turned gray, windy, and chilly by the next morning. Stiles held his phone in one hand, the steering wheel in the other. Every time he needed to recheck his Maps, he did so at a stop sign or red light. When he figured he was close, he threw his phone down on the passengers seat.

The warehouse came into view ahead of him. Nothing really differentiated it from any of the other warehouses in the area, except for a number boldly painted above the office door. Stiles drove up the door, parking just under the big black “6”. As he was parking and gathering his things, he caught a glimpse of Erica walking and waving to him.

“Hey Stiles,” she greeted. “We're just around the corner over here, feel free to follow. Need a hand?”  
  
Stiles handed her his notebook and pens while he retrieved his messenger bag with his laptop inside.

“You know there is no wifi here, right?” Erica raised an eyebrow before laughing.

“I figured that in between watching you guys and transferring my notes to my master list, I could play minesweeper,” Stiles retorted dryly.

Laughing, Erica lead him around the corner to the entrance of an open garage bay. She was sporting a baggy gray hoodie and some skinny jeans. Stiles noticed that she had a pair of finger less black gloves shoved into her back pocket, but gave her lower back less than a glance.   
  
“Stiles is here!” she called out.

Stiles took in the warehouse around him. The owner must have dealt with cars in some way, because there were car parts, rusted vehicles, and cars draped in cloth towards the back of the garage. Ten feet from the garage door, the band had already set up the drums, mics, speakers, cords, and mic stands. Issac was adding a new guitar string, Boyd was listening to music via headphones, Jackson was doing jumping jacks—despite his two sweaters and long sweat pants, he still looked chilled--, and Derek was talking with a shorter girl. It took Stiles a second to remember that he had seen the girl before, that night he first saw Wolfsbane live. She had been working the merch table.

“I'm not late am I? Stiles whispered to Erica.

“No no, Derek, Jackson, and Boyd set everything up last night. We had space heaters running to make sure the equipment was okay. The guitars would have been out of tune this morning if we hadn't done that. Cold tightens the strings, heat relaxes them. Screws with the sound basically”. She motioned over the the two industrial fans plugged into the wall, and the two smaller heaters placed in front of the band.

“Will you close that damn door?” Jackson stopped his jumping jacks. “I'm damn near freezing here. Let's get the heaters up and running!”

“Quit your bitching,” Erica fired back, “I wasn't about to lock Stiles out!”

“Fuuuuuck,” Jackson groaned.

Derek stopped his conversation. “Stiles, this is Cora, Cora, Stiles”, he introduced bluntly.

“Cora is Derek's little sister, and she's the artist for the band. She comes up with all our designs for merch and albums,” Erica filled him in.

“Nice to meet you,” Stiles reached out his hand.

“Likewise,” Cora reached out her hand hesitantly.

“Issac, Boyd, could you get a crate for them to sit on?” Derek said.

Issac sighed as he nudged Boyd out of his trance. Together, the moved over two crates in front of the band.

“Hey, thanks guys, I appreciate that,” Stiles said.

“The floor's bloody cold, it's nothing,” Issac said. Boyd didn't glance at Stiles, but nodded at Cora.

The band began to settle in while Cora and Stiles sat down. Opening his notebook, Stiles flipped to a fresh sheet, writing down the date on top of the page. Cora dug out her own drawing book, whilst digging for a pencil. Stiles caught sight of several pages.

Most of them looked like tattoo designs with styles in Aztec, Japanese, Traditional, Tribal, Sailor-esce, and Mexican sprawled over the pages.

“Whoa,” Stiles exclaimed before covering his mouth. “I-I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have peeked without your permission. They are very good mind you, but I still shouldn't have looked”.

Cora gave him a look before the slightest smile wrinkled the edge of her lips. “It's okay. I appreciate the compliment”. Having found a pencil, she opened the book to a new page, and started to sketch something. She had a focused look on her face; her long brown hair covering the page. Looking at her now, Stiles could really see the resemblance to Derek. Both had the same eyes, face, and hair. Even their demeanor was similar, but Stile should somehow sense that Cora's was a little lighter, a little more open than her brother's. Cora seemed relaxed around Stiles while she drew. Stiles thought she might be drawing the outline of a wolf, before his attention was directed towards the band with Issac and Jackson testing their guitars.

“Okay okay,” Derek called out for quiet. “We're gonna run through our set list to practice, then I wanna work on some new stuff. The Pack; Little Bird, and Crystal, got it? Stiles, pay attention and see if your lighting cues need more work with our sound. We'll take a break after, then work on new stuff”.

_New stuff? Oh man, I was just getting used to the old stuff. Focus Stiles, you got this._

“The Woods on three. One, two three!”

The band went into a frenzy on Derek's cue. Stiles watched the band, making notes for each song that was played. He did make some slight changes as he reheard the songs, but he referenced his notes back to his master list on his laptop when he could.

The band ran through the set list easily enough. Soon, it was time for a break.

“Food run?” Issac suggested, pointing at Boyd and Jackson.

“I'm down. A&W?”

Boyd nodded at Jackson's suggestion.

“A&W? No way. Can I have Subway?”

“Erica, if you want Subway you should just come with us. It's like a block over, I could drop you off”.

“Why thanks Jackson, that's so nice of you to offer. I could have done without the eye rolling though.”

“Please, I just didn't want to have to remember your order. Who likes avocado with tuna anyway?”

“So you do remember my order!”

“Just get in my car before I change my mind!”

The four band mates were making their way to the door when Erica turned around. “You guys want anything?”

Cora shook her head. “I made a lunch for Derek and I”.

“Stiles?”

“Ah, no thanks. I'm okay.”

“You sure?” Erica raised her eyebrow in concern.

“Oh yeah, I ate before I came.”

“Sounds good. We'll see you guys in fifteen”.

The four of them walked out the side door. Stiles could already hear Issac and Jackson arguing with one another. Stiles came to realize that he was alone with Derek and Cora.

“I'm going to go to the office.” Derek said. He walked over to Cora to reach for a bag beside her. Taking out a sandwich, a water bottle, and a bag of carrots, Derek walked towards the back of the warehouse, and into a door that Stiles assumed lead to the front door and offices.

Silence fell over the warehouse.

“So...does he not like the cold?” Stiles motioned to the back door.

Cora looked up. “He's okay with it, he just likes quiet. Sometimes he mediates, and he prefers to do that alone.”

Stiles pursed he lips, eyebrows raised.

“So how did you get signed on to all this?” Cora watched him patiently.

“Well... to be honest with you it was a sheer luck. You were probably still at the merch table eh?” Cora nodded. “Well I went to the Marque Theater with a friend and we happened to see your last guy walk out on the band. My friend mentioned that I did lighting for previous shows and...here I am.”

Cora nodded again. “I didn't like the last guy. He played by his own rules. He wasn't very co-operative. Plus I didn't like his vibe. Very...iffy.”

“I...could kind of see that.”

“And the guy before him was a loser. He couldn't do his job. He stared at Erica's boobs too much, and even mine sometimes. He only lasted like, two shows.”

“Good God, the hell is wrong with him?” Stiles frowned deeply.

Cora laughed, “It was so funny to see him go. Boyd, of all people, was the one to snap at him not to stare at Erica anymore. Derek told him it was quits and Jackson and Issac escorted him out. We went out to a pub after. That was a fun night.”

“Wait, how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“How did you manage to get into a pub?”

“Peter knows a guy. No alcohol for me, that's all”.

_How many guys does Peter know?_

A silence fell over them for a time. Cora continued to work on her sketch. Stiles could now see it was the same wolf that the band used in their logo. It took him a minute to realize it was the same one that Derek sported on his neck.

“Did you make that? For Derek I mean?”

Cora looked up, then back to her sketch. “Yeah, I did. I contributed to some of his other tattoos as well.”

“That's so awesome! So you're a tattoo artist?”

Cora shook her head. “ I would like to be. No, I'm just shadowing an artist for now. Maybe next year I can go to art school to get the certification.”

“So...who gave Derek his tattoo if you didn't?”

“Family friend.”

Stiles would have asked more if he hadn't heard the sounds of a car door slamming, followed by some a  
argumentative yelling.

“...slam my car door!”

“It was an accident, my hand slipped!”

“My hand is about to slip against the back of your head!”

“Will you both shut up?!”

Erica walked in first, holding her Subway bag. She reached inside, handing Stiles a cookie bag. “There's chocolate chip for both of you. I texted Derek and he didn't want any.”

“Thanks, Erica!” Stiles dug out his cookie, taking a big bite out of the treat.

The other boys fell in behind Erica. Boyd looked a little nervous, but otherwise annoyed at Jackson and Issac's antics. He made a passing glance at the trio, before strolling past to his bass. At the sound of the commotion, Derek walked out of the office.

“Why is it that you guys are always arguing?” He asked calmly, yet directly.

“It's not my fault Jackson has a stick up his--”

“My car, my rules. If you can't respect that, you can't ride with me”.

“It was an accident--”

“Enough.” The two men stopped at Derek's command. “Put some of that energy into band practice. Later, you guys can get some of that aggression out.”

To Stiles, that comment seemed very much like an innuendo; however the other guys didn't pay much mind. If anything, they smirked at one another before returning to their guitars.

Cora munched on her cookie, returning to her sketch. She turned over a new page, and began to sketch something that Stiles could not see. The band gathered up their instruments.

“Okay, guys,” Derek called out, “Let's start with the Pack first. Erica, remember that it's five beats, not four for the kick off. Jackson, you've been practicing your cords right? Good. Stiles, we'll do two runs. Pay attention, just listen for the first time. On Erica's count”.

Erica knocked her drum sticks together, her bass drum following after. For five beats, it was just Erica drumming along on her snare and bass drum. Suddenly, Jackson's guitar screeched to life and kicked off the rest of the band. Stiles paid attention closely to the band and the sound. He came to realize that Derek was singing a tribute to their fans.

_Take my word of advice._   
_When life beats you down,_   
_When all seems lost,_   
_Look into my eyes._   
_Loss, death, destruction,_   
_I have seen it all._   
_I've lived it all._

_Life bit me so I bit back._   
_I'll give my teeth to you,_   
_I'll give my hands to you,_   
_I'll give my soul to you,_   
_To help see you through._

_For all the days I felt loss,_   
_For all the roads that were hard to cross,_   
_You were there to see me through,_   
_Now it's time for me to help you._

Stiles watched them finish the song. Before he could stop himself, he was clapping. Derek turned to him, eyebrow raised. Stiles meekly stopped, a shy grin on his face.

“I think we have a winner,” Erica cheered, raising her drum stick in the air. The rest of the band seemed happy. Even Derek seemed a little bit content. Stiles figured it was one of the first times that Derek showed him a pleasant emotion.

“That sounded good. One more time then. Stiles, take notes”.

Nodding, Stiles reached for his pen and paper. The band continued to play both the previous song, and two more new one's that Stiles had not heard.

Practice went on smoothly, yet there were still breaks where the band discussed song structure, chord placements, and short runs. By the time the band called it quits, it was already approaching the evening. It had warmed up nicely during the day, enough for there to be some sun with occasional cloudy periods. The band was packing away their equipment into cases, or covering the drums in a tarp.

“Hey Stiles, you doing anything later?”

Stiles looked up from packing away his laptop to see Erica standing above him, with her hands behind her back.

“Not really, no. I do have to stop by my place to drop off my stuff. What's up?”

“Do you wanna go for a walk with me and my dog? There's a great park that I like to take him too. He's a Great Pyrenees dog, so he's big, but pretty lovable”.

Stiles thought about it for a second. He really didn't mind dogs, though he had never had one himself. He hadn't planned on doing anything else that night, besides work on band stuff. A break outside would do him some good.

“Sure, I'd go. If you wanna follow me back to my place, I can drop off my car and stuff and get a ride with you?”

Erica smiled, “Sounds like a plan. Are we all done here?” she called out to the band.

“Basically,” Jackson said, “Enjoy your date”.

“Not a date, Jackie”.

“I'm not a Jackie!”

“Ignore him”. Erica waved her hand back at Jackson. “I'll see you guys later”.

Stiles gathered his things, waved to Cora and the band, and followed Erica out. Erica stopped in front of a grey Honda Prelude with a dented bumper and some rusting around the rims. “It was uncle's. Got it for super cheap,” she shrugged.

“A car's a car,” Stiles shrugged. “I'll see you in a bit”.

Getting into his own car, buckling up, and starting his engine, Stiles waited for Erica to pull out of her parking spot before reversing and continuing on. Stiles would glance back at red lights to find Erica would be slamming her hands against the steering wheel, screaming along with whatever song she was listening to. Stiles smiled as he drove on. Pulling up on the street in front of his apartment building, Stiles got out of his car to run to Erica's door.

“You can park here for now. I'm just gonna park my car and grab my stuff”.

“Actually, could I use your washroom?” Erica smirked sheepishly.

“Oh...yeah for sure, just meet me at the front door. I'll be there in a second”.

Stiles moved his car around the corner to his parking stall. Meeting Erica at the front door, Stiles punched in his door code to let them in. Finding the elevator was down for maintenance --'Again? Really?'-- they started climbing the stairwell. When they reached Stiles's door, Erica's nose wrinkled.

“Uh Stiles...what is that smell?”

“My neighbor likes to leave old tuna cans out in the hallway. I've complained, but nothing's been done. The smell will go away in a sec, sorry”.

Opening the door to his apartment, Stiles glanced at his duvet blanket on the couch, several dishes in the sink, and his blinds closed. “If I knew I was gonna bring someone home, I would have freshened the place up,” Stiles shrugged.

“At least your place isn't covered in dog fur. I love Bo, but he sheds like crazy. The bathroom is...?”

“Oh, just to your right”.

Erica went and closed the bathroom door behind her. Stiles moved to the kitchen to turn on the hot water. He filled his sink up with warm soapy water-- That should help with the dishes-- before he went to the couch. Grabbing his blanket, he walked into his bedroom. Haplessly throwing his cover on the bed, he went to plug in his laptop. He heard the toilet flush and the tap water run in the next room. He glanced at his cellphone, only to notice that his phone's battery was dying.

_Did I remember to plug in my battery cell?_

Stiles began to look around every spare plug in he had in his room. He heard the bathroom door open and close. Footsteps moving towards the living room echoed in the apartment. Stiles found his battery cell and cord, just as he heard rustling.

“I'm ready to go!” Stiles may have shouted a little too loudly as he shoved his belongings into his pocket. He went into the living room to find Erica admiring his memory board. He eyed his covered photography equipment, but nothing looked disturbed.

“Sorry, I was just looking at this. That's your friend, right?”

“Kira? Yeah, we've been friends since high school. It's crazy that we would move to the same city together.”

“Anything...ever happen between you two?”

Stiles made a face. “Oh God no. She's too much like a sister to me. Besides, I think she has the hots for an old friend of mine from university”.

Erica raised an eyebrow before making her way to the door. Stiles didn't think anything of the question, but did eye Erica briefly while her back was turned.

“Let's go then. Bo doesn't like to wait”.

“I'm sure he doesn't,” Stiles said as he locked his apartment door behind him.

~*~

Now, Stiles did not have very much experience with dogs. Besides the odd police dog and neighborhood dog, Stiles never grew up around them. Stiles knew that Bo was big and shed a lot, but he figured Bo was like any other big, shaggy dog.

Stiles was half right.

Sitting in the back seat of Erica's Prelude, Stiles could not escape Bo's fur. It clung to the seats, the floor, the bushy dog in the front seat itself. Bo was very happy to be going for a walk, his odd booming barks announced that fact. Stiles had been practical tackled when they arrived at Erica's three bedroom complex. Her roommates weren't home, so Erica wasn't surprised to hear Bo's barks as they approached.  
  
“They would tell him to shut up in a second. He's only like this when he wants to go for a walk or when he thinks there is an intruder.”

When Erica opened the front door, a big, fluffy dog came charging out, straight at Stiles.

“Bo! No! Bad dog!”

The command came too late, as Stiles was already on the ground, being smothered and licked by the Great Pyrenees.

“Off me, boy!”

Erica managed to get Bo off Stiles, and commanded Bo to sit. The dog whined, looking guilty at both Stiles and Erica. Stiles hesitantly reached out his hand, to which Bo nudged and licked at it. It was safe to say that all was well when Stiles began to pat the top of Bo's head.

Now, sitting in the back seat-- “It's too cramped for him, it's just easier to adjust the passenger seat, sorry Stiles”-- Stiles was content to reach into the front seat and nudge at Bo every so often.

Pulling into a parking stall at the park, Bo began to excitedly wag his tail, whining to be let out of the car. Erica grabbed his leash and went to let him out. Stiles watched as Bo jumped out of the car, only to sit in front of Erica while she put on his leash.

“I trained him well. He knows I won't throw his ball if he misbehaves”, Erica beamed.

Bo lead the way as the pair walked into the park. Despite the colder October day, the park was busy with activity. Children played on the playground; couples strolled hand in hand-- some with a stroller in front of them; an older person would sit with a bag of seeds for a few pigeons nearby. When Erica deemed it far enough into the park, she let Bo off his leash. The dog went bounding around the green space, stopping to sniff at a bush every so often. Erica dug a ball out of her bag, throwing it far enough for Bo to run after it. Stiles chose to sit on the ground on a nearby hill, watching the game of fetch from afar. Erica threw the ball near Stiles at one point, causing Bo to almost plow him over.

“Sorry!”

“It's okay!” Stiles bent forward to pick up the wet ball. “Here Bo, fetch!”

Stiles turned, throwing the ball sideways in the distance. The ball bounced up and over the hill beside Stiles. Bo ran after it, disappearing over the side of the hill.

“You have a good arm there”.

“Thanks. I used to play ball with some of the guys my dad worked with...say, shouldn't Bo be back by now?”

“Aw shit, Bo!”

The pair jogged to the other side of the hill. Stiles noticed three things as they ran down the hill. One, there was a soccer field on the other side of the hill. Two, there were a group of guys standing around Bo, one of them was petting a very happy dog. And finally, when they all turned their heads towards Erica and Stiles, he recognized them.

Boyd was petting Bo, who was content to lick Boyd's hands and sometimes face. Jackson stood, with a stick with a net on one end resting behind his neck on his shoulder blades. Issac had been removing a goalie helmet from his head when he had turned around to the pair.

“Oh, hey guys,” Issac said as the pair approached.

“Getting a few shots in?” Erica asked.

“On me? Psst, I would never let a ball in, Erica”.

“Says the guy who let in at least ten of my shots,” Jackson snorted.

“Did not!”

“Did too, Dick-ens”, Jackson dragged out. “I'm the best there is at lacrosse. No chumps can beat me”. Issac took a step towards Jackson.

“Isn't it your turn to be in net, Jackson?”

Stiles turned to see Derek walking towards them, stick in one hand, bag filled with water bottles in the other.

“Is it? No way.”

“You haven't been in net for a while. And if you think so highly of your skills overall, prove it,” Derek said, as he tossed a bottle at Jackson. Jackson caught the bottle with one hand.

“He has you there,” Boyd pointed out.

“Fine,” Jackson said as he grabbed the goalie helmet from Issac's outstretched hands. “Take your best shots. And wipe that stupid grin off your face, Lahey”.

“You guys sticking around?” Issac asked Erica and Stiles.

“I have to run Bo a bit more, or else he'll just run after your guy's ball. Stiles should watch though. You ever see lacrosse before?”

“Um...to be honest, I have never paid too much attention. Our school had a lacrosse team, but I never had anything to really do with it”.

“Well, you're in for a treat,” Erica winked. “I'll be back in a bit boys. Come, Bo!”

The Great Pyrenees followed after Erica, leaving Stiles behind.

“You have never seen lacrosse before?” Derek asked, a little surprised.

“Ah...no.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Derek's eye.

“Why don't you watch our stuff over there. We are just taking shots on net,” Derek pointed to the large, triangular net halfway up the soccer field. “Just stay out of the way, and keep your head up. The ball can kill you if it hits your head.”

“Oh...that's...okay. I mean, that's not okay, but I get what you are saying”.

Derek, and Boyd followed after Issac, who was peeling off gear to give to Jackson--'Christ Lahey, did you shower with onion juice this morning?' 'Fuck you, Whittemore'. Stiles took a seat next to the band's bags and gear. The practice started off pretty standard. One of the guys would start with the ball halfway up the field, would start running, pass it off between the other two, and would receive the ball again before taking a shot on net. The guys rotated their positions after each shot. Sometimes some trick shots or maneuvers would be used during the run. Mostly, Jackson and Issac would banter back and forth with each other, with Boyd and Derek making quips here and there.

The play became more aggressive and daring as time went on. At one point, Stiles noticed Derek rubbing at his tee-shirt before said shirt was ripped off and thrown to the side. Derek did not seem to mind the cold October air as he stood ready to do the run. Stiles held his breath.

Derek has more tattoos adorning his body, across his arms, torso, back, and chest. Stiles could pick out skulls, writing, black and blue swirls, black bands on both his arms, a colorful image on his right forearm, and a three pointed swirl in the centre of his back. The wolf on Derek's neck had detail that Stiles had not noticed before. The tattoo was of a grey wolf's head. Stiles noticed that the wolf had its teeth exposed, like it was growling, but unlike the band's logo, it was not biting into any flower. Stiles thought he saw some distorted lines running through the tattoo, but he couldn't see as clearly when Derek began to run towards the goal.

Tossing the ball to Issac, who passed it to Boyd, he began to run straight at Jackson. Stiles stared intently as Boyd made the shot at Derek, only to realize that his shot was too high and too far in front of Derek. Derek ran a bit faster, before he crouched and leap into the air. Grabbing the ball with his stick, Derek brought his stick closer to him, rotated his body in an almost 360 degree turn, and made a shot at the net. Jackson just missed the ball as it soared past his knee into the net. Derek skidded to the ground on his knees, breathing heavily.

“Holy shit, Derek!” Issac cheered as him and Boyd ran to their vocalist. Jackson removed the helmet, not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face. Derek accepted Boyd's outstretched hand, raising himself back on his feet. Stiles watched as Derek glanced back towards him, breathing heavily, his toned chest rising with each breath.

Stiles was sure he was blushing right now. At the moment, he didn't seem to care too much. His mind was relatively blank, except for one thought.

_Take me now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter near done, but I had no idea how to end it. Plus, I was busy with work all summer, so I had little time to actually power through my writers block. I do have school starting back up again right away, but I hope to work on this when I can. I still have way too many ideas not to write them down. The good news is that I have an opportunity to go to Seattle to see the Wonder Years live at the Showbox in November (they are one of the inspirations for Wolfsbane). I'm hoping the trip will help fuel some inspirational juices, as well as give me some first hand references to look back on for the story. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment, I love hearing your guy's thoughts. I'm going away for the weekend so I hope to get this next chapter up and running. Thank you for your patience, and taking the time to read my story ~*~


	4. Comforted

The last time Stiles had possibly considered himself to be anything but straight was the last time that him and Kira went out partying. They were first years, out on the town on a Saturday night in late September. They had been frat house hopping, when they had heard whispers of a party going on at a bar downtown. Kira seemed eager to go.

 

“Why not, it should be fun”.

 

“Kira, we are underage, and you are drunk off a bootlegged keg. We should go home.”

 

“But Stiiiiles, the night is still young!”

 

“Kira, it's midnight, it's way past being young. It's twenty five, cynical, and wants to go to sleep”.

 

“What?” Kira hiccuped.

 

“Never mind, let's go home”.

 

“But th-that girl said she would go. I heard her talking with those guys. You know...who I'm talking about.”

 

Stiles paused. “I doubt she would go, she's underage too”.

 

“She said she knew a guy at the door who could let them in if you bribed him. Can we please go Stiles? I don't want to go home. Tonight's one of the last nights I can go out before midterms start and I have to lock myself in the l-library”.

 

Stiles looked at his friend. All around them, drunk party goers were coming and going from the frat house they were just at. Kira stared up at him, a smile gracing her lips; her eyes were eager.

 

“Okay. But only until last call, then we go home. And if we can't get in, then we leave. Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Kira beamed. The two continued on-wards to a bus stop, then to downtown. When they arrived outside the bar in particular—the Pony-- Stiles quickly realized they were approaching a gay bar. Kira recognized some of the people she had seen at the party. They informed her that two of their friends were talking to a bartender inside to see if they could let them in. Kira and Stiles stood with the others, where some were having a smoke. A girl with spiked hair and ruby red lips waved at her friends from inside the door. The gang filled in, where they were met with loud, club music.

 

Stiles hung close to Kira. The last time he was in a bar was when him, Kira, and a few drama students had snuck into the local bar “Jungle” at age sixteen, on a night where Pride Night happened to be going down. He hoped that this time, he wouldn't be dragged out the doors by his exasperated father.

 

_'I figured you would partake in underage drinking, but I thought it would be at a friends place. Not at a bar. Especially not on a night like tonight.'_

 

_'I mean dad, I could be gay. We haven't had this conversation yet.'_

 

_'You're not gay.'_

 

_'I could be'._

 

_'Not dressed like that!'_

 

Stiles and his dad never talked about that night again, beyond his dad warning him not to go into a bar while he was underage again. He obviously forgo-ed that warning again that September night. It also seemed he had a habit of ending up in gay friendly bars.

 

_I wonder if this is going to be a thing from now on._

 

He watched Kira go to the dance floor, where she was swaying with the music. Stiles looked around the crowd.

 

'You're Stiles, right?'

 

Before Stiles could conjure up what happened next in his mind, a voice distracted him.

 

“Stiles?”

 

Shaking his head, Stiles glanced up to see Derek standing over him. He had sweat running down his forehead, but his breathing was more regulated. He had put his shirt back on.

 

“I'm...that was ..good?” Stiles muttered. He was still pretty sure his face was beet red— _I probably look like an idiot right now._ Derek raised his eyebrow, then turned as Issac and Jackson approached him.

 

“Hey Stiles, did you like what you saw?” Issac smirked.

 

“Um...yeah...it was all very good.” Issac helped Stiles stand on his feet again.

 

“Wanna try?”

 

Stiles looked a little dumbfounded. “You want me to try?”

 

“Oh yeah, just taking shots on net. I'll let you borrow my stick,” Issac offered. Taking the stick from Issac's hand's, Stiles rotated the stick in his hands. “First, hold it a little staggered. Are you right or left handed?”

 

“Right”.

 

“Okay, so hold the stick like this,”Issac slid Stile's hands down the shaft to where they needed to be. “It's best to keep the netted end loose, but keep your grip on the stick tight, right up until you make the shot. You should swing it over your shoulder, or on your right side, making sure you stop the stick where you want to shoot. Otherwise you'll just carry it with you.”

 

“Gotcha”. The trio walked over to where Jackson and Boyd were standing.

 

“It's Stilinski's turn,” Issac called out. “That's how you say your name right?” Stiles nodded.

 

“Oh, this should be a treat” Jackson grinned as he put the mask back down over his face. Boyd raised his eyebrow before smirking, as he moved away from the net.

 

“Try and aim for one of the five spots,” Issac motioned to the corners of the net and in between Jackson's legs with his hand. “Try taking a running start at it, making sure to aim before you get into his crease,” Issac highlighted the invisible semi circle area in front of Jackson. “Or else it's a foul. We aren't too strict on those type of rules, but it's better that you don't get in each others way. Got it?”

 

“Yeah, for sure”.

 

“Okay, go for it”.

 

Stiles ran to where the others had been starting previously. Looking up the field, Derek, Issac and Boyd had stood off to his right side, watching him in anticipation. Jackson looked relaxed, as if this wasn't a challenge to him at all. Assessing his options, Stiles crouched down for a moment. Then, he was off.

 

Sprinting down the field, Stiles started off going straight at Jackson. When he was about half way to the goal, he began weaving left and right. When he was close enough to the goal, he shot towards the bottom left corner. Jackson blocked it with ease.

 

“Too slow, Stilinski.” Jackson called, tossing the ball back towards him.

 

“Can I try again?” Stiles asked the others.

 

Boyd shrugged while Derek and Issac nodded.

 

Running back to the start, Stiles again crouched, and began running towards the goal. He began to weave again, but this time aimed for the top right corner of the goal. The ball was stopped again, this time by Jackson's stick.

 

“I'm getting a little weak here man. All this standing around is a good cool down,” Jackson fired. Stiles resumed his spot at the start, but instead of pausing, he started sprinting. Jackson became alert as Stiles continued to charge at the goal. The trio perked up as Stiles got closer; worried that he might run into the goalie. At the last possible second, Stiles looked as if he was gonna aim for the left upper corner, and yet shot for the bottom right corner. Jackson almost tumbled backwards, just as the ball hit the back netting. The trio stood in shock.

 

Huffing, Jackson looked at Stiles.

 

“Your weak spot is your right bottom corner,” Stiles sighed. “You assume everyone is gonna shoot up or to your weak left, but you don't anticipate the opposite”.

 

Jackson stared at Stiles. His face was that of aggression, defeat, and contemplation.

 

“Go Stiles!” Erica was cheering from the sidelines, with a sleepy Bo resting beside her.

 

“Good shot,” Issac clapped the back of Stiles back as the others crowded around him.

 

“That was smart of you,” Derek crossed his arms, “to watch for his weak spots like that”. Stiles would be damned to think that Derek was impressed with him.

 

Stiles couldn't say anything, so he just grinned. The positions were rotated again, and the practice resumed. By the time the sun had gone down, everyone was thoroughly exhausted. Even Erica had managed to take a few shots on net--'I'm usually content to just watch, it normally isn't my strong suit”. The group began to walk towards their vehicles. Erica loaded a tired Bo into the front seat of her car. The others stood around talking while Derek spoke with somebody on his phone. After hanging up, he turned to the band and Stiles.

 

“Peter booked us as an opening act in four days. One of the bands dropped out last second and they needed a filler. Peter will text the info in a sec--”

 

As if on cue, everyone's phones began to ding or beep. A verse from 'Living on a Prayer' rang out of Boyd's pocket. Stiles checked his phone to see that Peter had texted him the time, date, lineup, and location of the venue, along with a 'Stiles, be sure to arrive fifteen minutes early for light check-Peter'.

 

“Boss!” Erica cheered. “We're playing for Rarity AND Seaway. I'm so down with this”.

 

“It'll be a good time,” Issac agreed.

 

“When is practice?” Boyd asked Derek.

 

“Two days frm now at the shipping yard. We should swap 'Insanity' for 'The Pack'. I want some new music to pump some people up for the next album. We'll focus on integrating that in and nailing it.”

 

The band nodded or agreed. They started to make their way to their respective vehicles. Jackson unlocked his Porsche, allowing Issac to climb into the backseat and Boyd to the front. Erica pointed Stiles towards her car, while Stiles eyed Derek walking to his Camaro alone. Erica was telling him about how she was going to grab groceries with her roommates after dropping him off, but Stiles wasn't paying too much attention. Stiles eyed Boyd from the front seat of the Porsche giving him a look. It looked like a mix between uncertainty, and suspicion. The Porsche drove off, its engine reeving as the car went onto the street. Erica exited the parking lot. The Camaro had not moved from its spot.

 

“So...Derek seems to keep to himself eh?” Stiles turned to face Erica.

 

“He's always been like that. Not to say he isn't loyal or sociable. We can get him to hang out with us sometimes. He does like to hang back, but he's not extroverted”.

 

“Oh okay...and is Boyd really shy?”

 

“Oh yeah. Boyd has always been like that though. He can have his moments, but he is still shy. Issac, Jackson and myself are way more outgoing and social than Boyd and Derek, but it's nice that way. Really balanced you know? Cause Issac can shift between the two, believe it or not. That's why he gets along with everyone”.

 

“Even Jackson?”

 

“They're like brothers,” Erica said as she pat Bo on the head. “They can annoy the shit out of each other, but they are loyal to each other through and through”.

 

Stiles nodded as he looked out the window. The group was certainly a dynamic bunch. Erica and Jackson were easier for Stiles to read, while Issac did fall somewhere in the middle. Stiles had a strong suspicion that Boyd didn't like him. And reading Derek was nearly impossible.

 

“Does it take a while for Boyd to warm up to people?”

 

“Hmm? Sometimes, though he is pretty easy going. You don't have to worry Stiles. Everyone in the band likes you, I know that.”

 

“Even Derek?”

 

Erica gave him a look before she snorted, rolled her head back, and laughed. Stiles stared at her. “Of course Derek likes you. No one would let you stay if we didn't like you. You're a good... a good match for us,” Erica wiped away a tear from her eye. “If Derek didn't like you to some degree, you wouldn't be here right now'. Stiles nodded and smiled. “Just wait a bit. Everyone will settle down. Derek...does take some time to get used to.”

 

“I kinda figured that.” Erica was pulling off the main highway towards Stile's apartment. “Does it have something to do with Kate?” Erica pulled into the front of his apartment. She parked the car, leaned back in her seat, and sighed.

 

“Some of it. There's more to it. But that will come with time too. And it has to come from him. I gotta get going, but I'll see you later?”

 

“For sure, thank you for the ride”.

 

Erica got out of her seat, folding hers forward so Stiles could leave. When he stepped out into the street, she gave him a big hug.

 

“Say, what's your phone number?”

 

“Oh, here one sec”.

 

Stiles grabbed his phone, handing it to Erica. She went through his phone, tapping at the keys before handing it back to him. “There. I'll text you, 'kay?”

 

“Catch you around!”

 

Erica got into her car, and drove off. Bo was barking in the front seat as the car pulled away from the curb. Stiles made his way to the front door, and then up the stairs to his apartment. As he was unlocking his door, his cellphone chimed. An unknown number had texted him a picture from earlier in the day. Bo was watching the lacrosse practice, and was barking at Stiles running towards the goal with Issac.

 

“ **Today was fun. I look forward to working with you and hanging out again sometime. :)”**

 

Stiles fired off a quick response, as he shut the door to his apartment. Looking around his apartment, he eyed the pile of dishes in the sink. Not feeling up to dealing with them at that moment, Stiles chose to grab his laptop and sit on the couch instead. Opening up a new tab, Stiles typed in: 'Wolfsbane'. From the suggested search came the band's: website; Facebook;Twitter; Bandcamp; and a Tumblr blog dedicated to rock/alternative/heavy metal bands mentioning the band in one of the blog's posts. Stiles clicked on it. It looked as though a fan had taken photos of an earlier show. Stiles noticed that Erica had shorter hair, and that Derek—with his shirt sleeves rolled up-- did not have the coloured tattoo Stiles had briefly saw earlier. The post mentioned the venue and date, and that Wolfsbane was becoming their new favourite band. Stiles starred the page for a later reference.

 

A random blurb of information surfaced in Stile's mind. Opening another tab, Stiles quickly searched; 'Instagram'. Finding the web link to the media site, Stiles searched for Erica's handle. Being the first link that popped up, Stiles clicked on it.

 

'Wolfsbane's drummer circa 2014. Makeup enthusiast. Bo <3\. I drum, I game, I kick ass.'

 

_Well, I didn't expect anything less in a profile description._

 

Erica's profile picture was a selfie of her eyeing the camera. Scrolling through her public profile, Stiles saw selfies of Erica, pictures of Bo, and pictures of makeup that Erica had tried and was recommending to her followers. Sometimes, photos of her bandmates would pop up. Jackson and Issac were making faces at the camera while Jackson was giving Issac a nuggie. Issac was sipping on a Starbucks drink in front of Erica--#PSL #Whyhasntthisbeeninmylifebefore #ThanksPoeforshowingmethelight. Boyd, Erica, and Issac were sitting on a couch holding PS3 controllers. Erica was taking a selfie in a dressing room with Derek reading a book in the background.

 

Stiles continued to scroll through her profile. He picked up little tidbits of information here and there that he could use later for references. Nearing the end of her profile, Stiles found pictures Erica had taken to raise awareness for those with epilepsy. Another picture was a picture of her wrist with different colored bands on it. She wore a purple, green, and yellow ribbon. The hashtags that followed were all Stiles needed to know what they meant. Purple was for epilepsy, green was for depression,and yellow was for suicide prevention.

 

Stiles paused at his computer, his fingertips hovering above the keys.

 

_Should I bring this up to her? I mean, it's on her Instagram and everything...but it is sort of an awkward and heavy topic to bring up. I can't be like 'Oh hey Erica, found your Instagram. You doing okay?'_ _Yeah no, can't do that. Best to leave it for her to bring it up._

 

Another thought occurred to him. Earlier, he had causally name dropped Kate in conversation. He didn't even know who she was, or what she had even done to Derek to warrant a restraining order against her. He figured she was a driving force behind many of the songs that Stiles knew.

 

Picking up a nearby copy of the band's CD, Stiles turned it over to see the backside where all the tracks were listed.

 

_'The Woods'_

_'Nowhere Fast'_

_'Another Thing Coming'_

_'Blood Brother'_

_'Killing Me Slowly'_

_'Hit You on the Way Out'_

_'Stranger'_

_'Trigger/Bull's eye'_

_'Insanity'_

 

_Okay: Thing Coming, Killing Me, Hit You, Stranger, TB, and Insanity all have undertones of fighting or abuse. That's basically most of the album. If this is all regarding one person, that's a pretty dark situation._

 

Stiles was about to reach for the keyboard keys, when he stopped. What Erica had said earlier hit him.

 

“ _There's more to it. But that will come with time too. And it has to come from him.”_

 

_She's right. I can't go snooping. If I come across something that Derek wouldn't want me to find, it wouldn't be fair to him at all. This obviously affected him a lot. I'm sure something as prominent as this will come up eventually._

 

Stiles reached out and closed his laptop. Rubbing his hand over his face, he walked towards his room, and collapsed in his bed. He curled himself under his comforter.

 

_Wait, when was the last time I ate? Probably that cookie that Erica got for me._

 

…

 

_I'm okay. I can wait until tomorrow._

 

_~*~_

 

A buzzing sound woke Stiles up from his slumber. Reaching for his phone, Stiles pressed it to his face.

 

“Hello?”

 

The phone buzzed again. Stiles pulled his phone away and clicked the answer button.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Is my weak point really my right side?”

 

“Jackson? W-what time is it?”

 

“Don't care. When did you notice I was lacking on that side?”

 

Stiles pulled his phone away from his face to look at the time. 1:43 AM shined brightly in front of his face.

 

“Jackson, it's late, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

 

“Stilinski, this can't wait. Answer the question.”

 

“I-I mean, I noticed it more when Issac or Derek were taking shots on you. You stopped every other shot that Boyd threw, but you tended to let slip when those two shot on net. What is this about?”. Stile heard lockers slamming in the background. “Where are you? Are you at a gym?”

 

“I slipped? Are you sure?”

 

“That's when I noticed it...how did you get my number?”

 

“Asked Erica. Okay, bye”.

 

“Jackson, wait--!”

 

The phone call had already been dropped. Stiles listened to dial tone before hanging up his phone.

 

_The hell was that about?_

 

Stiles rolled over in his bed. Sleep took a while to overtake him again, but he dozed off soundly enough.

 

~*~

 

Stiles awoke the next morning in a daze. He stretched, rolled around in bed, and sighed, whilst remaining underneath his comforter. His phone buzzed as he was staring up at the ceiling.

 

“ **Mind if I swing by in a bit? It's been forever, and I wanna catch up”.**

 

Stiles smiled at Kira's message.

 

“ **Sure, come over whenever”.**

 

Whenever seemed to pass by pretty quickly, because the next thing Stiles knew, there was knocking coming from his front door. Stiles dragged himself out of his bed.

 

“Are you wearing the same clothes from last night?” Kira eyed him as she stepped inside.

 

“Maybe. I was up late last night”.

 

“Working on band stuff?” Kira threw her bag on the couch before she sat down herself.

 

“Mhmm. I went to a band practice last night, then went for a walk with Erica. I had some bonding time with the band. It was a fine time. It wiped me out though”. Stiles walked to his sink, where he emptied out the cold soapy water, and started to fill the sink again.

 

“With the band, or just Erica?”

 

“We ran into the band playing lacrosse at the park...wait, are you suggesting...”

 

“Am I? She seems like a nice girl.”

 

Stiles turned, his hands still in the soapy water.

 

“It wasn't a date, she said as much. I don't know, I think she sees me as more of a friend”.

 

“Do you see her as a friend?”

 

“Well yeah. She's nice and pretty sure. But, I don't know”.

 

Kira stood up, taking a step into the kitchen. “Still not ready to date, eh?”

 

Stiles nodded. “I got some stuff to adjust to and figure out before I think about dating. Besides, this band stuff is kinda taking over my life, I don't have time for much else. Speaking of, how have things been with you?”

 

“Oh, good”, Kira did a half turn, walking towards the couch again. “School is going well, but midterms are killing me. I haven't had much time for much else. I mean besides term papers, midterms, texting--”

 

Stiles turned around. “Textbooks? No, texting? Who are you texting?...Wait, are you texting Scott?”

 

Kira bit her lip, despite the smile that was growing on her lips. “Yeah”.

 

Stiles beamed at her, as he wiped his hands on a dish cloth. “Well, how's that going?”

 

“I think it's going good. We've been texting each other a lot. We just started Snapchatting two days ago”.

 

“That's great Kira,” Stiles sat beside her on the couch. “Wait, he hasn't sent you anything...?”

 

“Oh God no, Stiles! To be honest, it's usually selfies with stickers on them. Sometimes he takes selfies with some of the animal he is working with. It's kinda cute”.

 

“You mean, he's kinda cute?”

 

Kira gave him a look. “Stiles, isn't he your friend from university?”

 

“Um, yeah. Doesn't mean I can't be happy for my best friend.”

 

“Aw, thanks Stiles. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if...”

 

“If what?”

 

Kira stopped, rubbing her hands. “I'm thinking back to that time your dad caught us outside of Jungle, and you were arguing with him about...what I'm saying is...it wouldn't matter to me if--”

 

“Thanks, Kira”, Stiles put his hand on her shoulder, “I appreciate it. That's part of what I have to figure out, but I still appreciate the sentiment”.

 

Stiles pulled Kira into a hug. The two embraced. As they pulled away, Kira made a face.

 

“You haven't showered yet today, have you?”

 

Stiles sniffed his shirt. There was a slight aroma of sweat and B.O. “Nooooope. I guess I did get some exercise yesterday.”

 

“You exercised? What did you do?”

 

Stiles recounted his day the day before.

 

“So yeah, I didn't really shower last night”.

 

“Well, I wanna grab some food. On the condition that you shower first”.

 

Laughing, Stiles agreed. He stood up, making his way to his bathroom. He peeled off his shirt as he closed the door, locked it, and started the hot water in his shower. There was minimal space in his bathroom, besides a sink, toilet, and small, skinny shower. Stiles caught a glance of himself in the mirror. His hair was sticking up on all ends, and was getting longer than he would have liked. He looked over his bare chest, noticing that he had little muscle tone, but smooth skin.

 

_I wonder what I would look like with tattoos._

 

The steam began to fog up the mirror. Stiles stripped the rest of his dirty clothes off him, and stepped into the shower.

 

~*~

 

“Were you hungry?”

 

Kira eyed Stile's tray. They were in a A&W not too far from the downtown area. Stiles had ordered a large fries, Papa burger, curly fries, dipping sauce, and a large Root Beer. Kira had a medium order of fries, a Teen Burger, and a medium coke.

 

“Yeah, I guess I was”.

 

“When was the last time you ate?”

 

“Yesterday,” Stiles said in between bites of curly fries. “I didn't have a chance to grab breakfast before you came”.

 

Kira gave him a worried look. Before she could say anything, Stiles noticed someone on the street. Jackson was walking towards a 24 hour Fitness Gym on the corner of the street. He was carrying a gym bag, and was wearing clean work out clothes. What caught Stiles eye was how rugged and tired Jackson looked, even from a distance.

 

“What's wrong?” Kira asked as she turned around in her seat.

 

Stiles paused. “It's okay, I just saw someone I recognized. They walked away though”.

 

“Oh, okay”.

 

Stiles took a big bite out of his burger. Every so often, he would glance up towards the gym, only to return to his food or Kira.

 

~*~

 

A buzz was heard from the couch while Stiles was putting away dishes later that evening. Picking up his phone, Erica had sent him a picture message. Bo was staring up at the camera, his ball in his mouth.

 

“ **He is so cute. I think he misses going for walks with you.”**

 

Stiles smiled.

 

“ **He's a good dog. Maybe next time?”**

 

“ **For sure. You should come to the next lacrosse practice. For never having played before, you are pretty good. “**

 

“ **Would that be okay, it seems to be more of the guy's thing anyway.”**

 

Stiles glanced around his living room, and into his bedroom.

 

“ **By the way, why did you give Jackson my phone number?”**

 

His phone buzzed a minute later.

 

“ **He said he had to ask you about something. I didn't really question it, especially since you should get all our numbers at some point. Why? What did you guys talk about?”**

 

“ **Something about practice last night. I couldn't really understand him since he called me early in the morning. Is it normal for him to be at the gym so late? That's where I think he was”.**

 

Her reply took a few minutes.

 

“ **He does go to the gym a lot. I don't know if he goes late at night or not. That's weird though”.**

 

“ ***shrug*”**

 

Stiles did not hear from Erica for a while afterwards. Next thing Stiles knew, his phone was ringing.

 

“Stiles?” Erica spoke on the other end.

 

“Hey, what's up?”

 

“Remember how I said that some things would come out with time?”

 

“Yeah”.

 

“Well, I can't say anything for the others. But, I can say things about myself. You remember how I said I didn't have a lot of friends when I was in high school? Well, it was a little worse than that. I had no friends. I had no one to sit with at lunch, no one to sit beside in class. The bus rides home were the worse. I had a really hard time for a while. I...I almost didn't make it to graduation”.

 

Stiles could hear her voice breaking on the other line.

 

“I'm being treated for epilepsy and depression. Sometimes the meds react with each other and I get moody. But the meds help. I-I had a plan and everything, but I stopped...”

 

“Erica?” Stiles rubbed his hand over his mouth, “What made you stop?”

 

“I couldn't stand the idea of my mom finding me. Every scenario I had in my head involved her finding me ann-d I couldn't do that to her. She was just starting to date my future step dad, and it was the first time I had seen her happy in a long time. So I stopped. But...I really wish you were there at my high school. And...I'm so glad I got to know you now. I'm so sorry this is coming out of nowhere, but I just had some wine, and I've been meaning to tell you. I know we haven't spent a lot of time together, and this is the first real time we are talking, but...I don't know, it's calming to know that if I needed you, you'd be there. I don't have a doubt about that. I'm sorry for dumping this on you”.

 

Stiles took a second, before he sighed. He was trying hard not to cry over the phone.

 

“Erica...it's okay. I don't think anything less of you, and I'm glad you told me. This past week and a bit have been the best days I've had in a while, and I am so glad you have made me feel supported and wanted. It's been a little hard to relate to you guys, but I'm glad you've been there for me...as a friend.”

 

“Yeah, you're a good friend”.

 

“I'm sorry I can't give you a hug right now.”

 

“That's okay,” Erica hiccuped. “I'm not in a position to drive over to hug you, so you can just give me one tomorrow.”

 

“Sounds fair. Are you okay? Isn't drinking alcohol while on drugs a bad idea?”

 

Erica laughed. “Yeah, it is. I'm usually good to have a drink every once and a while and be okay. The drugs affect how quickly the alcohol hits you, so if you too many in a row, you can get too sick. This is only my second glass. I was having a time, my meds are making me moody. Plus, it's my time of the month”.

 

“Ah. Well, promise me that you won't have any more?”

 

“Yeah...yeah I can promise that. Are you okay? I just dumped all that on you, but I forgot to ask how you are”.

 

Stiles smirked, “I'm good, I just got back from hanging out with my friend Kira. I was doing some dishes when you called.”

 

“Was I bugging you?”

 

“Naw, I'm never bothered from a friend calling me.”

 

Erica laughed on the other line. She asked him what Kira and him did when they were hanging out. They talked into the evening, laughing and sharing stories with one another.

 

**~*~**

 

Stiles was writing in his notebook while the band practiced in front of him. Stiles had arrived earlier than Jackson and Issac did that morning. Derek, Boyd, and Erica were talking outside the warehouse when he approached them. Stiles had barely managed to set his stuff down when Erica ran into at full force.

 

“Ommph!”

 

“Sorry, just giving you that hug I promised.” Erica pulled away from him, grinning like he had never seen her do before. He was glad that she was feeling better. Stiles glanced towards the other two band members. Derek was opening the door to the warehouse, while Boyd was looking away sheepishly.

 

Issac and Jackson arrived shortly afterwards. Issac looked a little nervous as he approached the group while Jackson...looked a little ragged. His clothes were clean—the long sleeved grey sweater, jeans, and sneakers he wore were all free of dirt or mess. His hair was kept, slicked back and spiked like it always was. But the deep purple bags under his eyes, and the slouch he was sporting made him look ill and exhausted.

 

“Time to set up,” Derek called from inside, seemingly unaware of Jackson's appearance.

 

The others made their way inside. Everyone excluding Jackson gave each other confused or worried glances. They continued inside, making their way towards their respective spots and instruments. As Stiles was setting up his gear, he could almost sense two different sets of eyes on him. He had a suspicion that Boyd was eyeing him from across the room, but he hadn't the slightest idea who else could be eyeing him. He chose not to look up in favor of organizing his things. _Somethings,_ he was quickly realizing, _were better off to remain a mystery._

 

~*~

 

Band practice was in full swing. The band was working on “The Pack”, when Derek stopped singing mid verse.

 

“Stop”.

 

Issac's guitar screeched. “What's wrong?” The band stared at their leader, their instruments silent.

 

“Jackson,” Derek eyed the guitarist. “What's wrong?”

 

“Pardon?” Jackson looked up from his guitar strings. His expression was dazed, and he stumbled slightly on his feet.

 

“You are off your game today. You look like shit. What's keeping you up?”

 

“Nothing. Just had a shitty sleep last night”.

 

“You sure?” Derek didn't seem to believe him.

 

“Yeah, just a 'bout of insomnia.”

 

Derek gave a curt nod. “Everyone, take five. We'll start again where we left off”.

 

Stiles reached for his laptop, and began to look over his master list. He had some ideas for what lights to use before the new song, but he would probably need a minute at the lighting board to test a few patterns out.

 

“How's it going?”

 

Stiles looked up as Erica took a seat beside him. Cora was not here today to keep Stile's company, so he had more room on the crate to work with.

 

“Pretty good. I'm working out some ideas now. I'm thinking on orange gobos for this one”.

 

“Can I see?”

 

Stiles was about to hand over his notes, when a shout rang out.

 

“DON'T YOU START!”

 

Issac stood in shock after Jackson had barked at him.

 

“Jackson,” Derek turned. “What's eating you?”

 

“Nothing! Just leave me the fuck alone!” Jackson stormed towards the office doors, letting the door slam shut behind him.

 

“What happened?” Derek turned to Issac for information.

 

“I asked him if he wanted to go shoot some passes after practice before the snow settles in. I did mention that he could maybe work on his game...then he yelled at me”.

 

Derek nodded. “Give him a break. He's probably exhausted. Let him cool off, then we'll start again.”

 

Issac and Boyd nodded before they began talking amongst themselves. Erica stood up and walked over to Derek. Stiles had to strain a little bit, but he could just barely the conversation.

 

“Derek,” Erica whispered. “I think he's doing it again”.

 

Derek stared at her. He was quietly contemplating what she had said. His expression shifted from sturdy, to worrisome.

 

“What makes you say that?” His tone was low, almost inaudible.

 

“Stiles said he called him two nights ago in the middle of the night. He was likely at a gym, and he was asking Stiles about lacrosse practice. I think his old habits are returning.”

 

“It's too soon to say. Keep this to yourself and see if you can keep an eye on him. It will probably pass.”

 

Erica nodded. Glancing over at Stiles, she waved, a smile forming on her lips. After about five minutes, Jackson returned. He apologized to Issac and the band. Then band practice resumed.

 

Afterwards, Jackson declined Issac's offer to hang out.

 

“I need sleep, so I'm gonna try and get to bed early tonight”.

 

“That's fair. Have a good night, man. Hey Boyd, pizza and games?” Boyd shrugged, then nodded. “Erica, Stiles, games and pizza?”

 

“Only if I pick the pizza place,” Erica waved. “I don't care what we play, cause I'll smoke all of you in them”.

 

Issac turned to face Stiles, “You in?”

 

“Um, sure. Where are we hanging out at?”

 

“My place. My roommate is working late so he shouldn't be a bother”.

 

“Good!” Erica groaned.

 

“Why is that a good thing?” Stiles asked.

 

Issac threw his arm around Stiles, giving him a deadpan look, “My roommate, Jared, has a super sensitive nose. He has certain...triggers that make him vomit. So I can't have mushrooms with my pizza at my house...or tuna, garlic, pizza sauce, oregano, too smelly of a trash can, wet socks...I could go on, but you get the point.”

 

“That sucks, man”.

 

“Yes. Thank you, Craigslist. He works in IT at a call center, so he'll be gone for most of the night. So in the mean time, we game and party”.

 

Stiles smiled, before hid eyes glanced over at Jackson. Letting the door slam behind him, Jackson was out of sight, but Stiles could tell that something was on his mind. Stiles was lost in thought for a second before Issac nudged him.

 

“Thought we lost you there for a second. Pack up your things. Just follow behind Erica, she'll lead you in. We gotta park and take the train to my place, hope that's okay. If you got nothing on the go tomorrow, you can just crash at my place”.

 

“Oh yeah, I have no plans.”

 

“Awesome,” Issac glanced back at Derek, “Hey Derek, you wanna join us tonight?”

 

“Can't. Family movie night.” Derek continued to wrap cables around his arms. Stiles could see hints of his tattoos as his sleeves rolled up and down his arm. Stiles's eyes shifted upwards to Derek's biceps, which flexed and relaxed with each tug.

 

“Oh yeah,” Stiles snapped out of his own head as Erica remarked, “What's on Netflix tonight?”

 

“Whatever Cora wants to watch, it's her turn”.

 

“No Turkish films tonight?” Issac raised his eyebrow.

 

“Peter has some...interesting tastes,” Erica leaned in towards Stiles.

 

“Catch you next time?” Issac pointed at Derek.

 

“Maybe”.

 

Stiles watched Derek continue to wrap cords while the others moved to put away their instruments. Putting away his own laptop and notes, Stiles waited for the band to finish up before the warehouse was locked up and armed. Erica, Issac, Boyd and Stiles walked to Erica's car and Stiles's jeep to load up gear. Stiles was loading Issac's guitar into the back of his jeep when he noticed Derek walking back to his Camaro.

 

Without thinking, Stiles called out, “Have a good night, Derek!”

 

Stiles stood up straight as Derek turned to him.

 

Nodding, Derek said, “You too”. Giving a wave, he told the others, “Have fun guys”.

 

Issac called shotgun on Stile's front seat while Boyd climbed into Erica's car.

 

“Feel free to fiddle with the radio,” Stiles offered Issac.

 

“It's okay man, I like whatever”. Tuning the stations, Issac settled on the modern rock station, Rock 99.9. “Okay, so turn left here”...

 

~*~

 

“So then I said, 'well ma'am, that will be $3.39. She got her cappuccino, ran out the door, and me and my manager killed ourselves laughing for the next half hour.” The group laughed at the stories Issac had been telling about his old job at Starbucks. Arriving at the train terminal, they had about eight minutes before the train would arrive.

 

Stiles was so wrapped up in the conversation that he didn't really take in his surroundings. When he noticed Boyd leave to go to a vending machine, he thought nothing of it. It wasn't until Boyd walked passed the group with a bag of chips that Stiles even clued in. At the end of the terminal, a homeless man was resting on one of the benches along the wall. The man carried a large backpack and sleeping bag in his arms. Approaching the man, Boyd calmly and quietly spoke to him. He handed the man the chips, and shook his hand. The man nodded, obviously appreciating the gesture. Boyd talked with the man for a few minutes before the train arrived. Boyd joined the group. Erica and Boyd waved to the man as the group got on the train. Erica and Boyd took a seat together while Issac and Stiles stood.

 

“He had lost his job and recently his house. He's looking to get enough money for some food and a ticket to his daughters place in Wyoming”.

 

“That was nice of you to buy him food,” Stiles commented.

 

Boyd just nodded. “You wanna tell Stiles about the time one of the coffee machines malfunctioned?” Boyd turned to Issac.

 

“Oh man, you'd love this story! So here I am, 6 am in the morning and...”

 

Stiles largely paid attention to the story but kept thinking back to the train terminal. He wondered what Boyd's reasons were for giving the man food but no money, and offering to speak with him so casually. Stiles had very little experience with interacting with homeless people to understand how to properly go about it. Stiles just assumed that people gave homeless people money and that was that. Stiles did not dwell on it too closely, as Issac got more and more erratic as the story went on.

 

~*~

 

Arriving at Issac's place an hour later, the group rushed inside to get warm.

 

“Brr, freaking cold fronts. I'm gonna go wash my hands”.

 

“Erica, pick a place first, I'm placing an order”.

 

“Just get Dominoes. But order me a thin crust this time”.

 

“Mkay. Boyd, pick a game. Stiles, make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa.”

 

Stiles glanced around the apartment. The place was about the same size as his own apartment, just more condensed. The place was relatively clean—aside from the mismatched pillows and blankets that were spewed all over the floor and couch. A desktop computer with dual screens was set up in the far corner closest to the 15 inch tv against the wall. A PlayStation 3, X-Box 360 and a GameCube were set up or tucked away in the TV stand. The walls were largely decorated with small pieces of writing and art. The whole apartment gave off a homely, sophisticated air; save for the candy wrappers littering the area around the desktop computer.

 

“Hey Stiles, is pepperoni okay with you? Mushrooms?”

 

“Yeah, for sure. Didn't you say you couldn't have mushrooms on your pizza?”

 

“Only if Jared isn't here. That means you guys gotta eat all my pizza. Can't leave it in the fridge either or he'll get pissy”.

 

“Deal”.

 

Boyd picked out Call of Duty Warfare from the sizable collection in the other corner of the room. Stiles sat down on the couch while Boyd organized controllers.

 

“You need help?”

 

“It's fine.”

 

“...Okay”.

 

Issac poked his head out from the kitchen.

 

“Pizza will be here in forty”.

 

“Hey man, what do I owe you?” Stiles went to reach for his wallet.

 

“Don't worry about it.”

 

“For real?”

 

“Yeah, we usually take turns getting pizza anyway. Me, then Boyd, then Erica, Jackson and Derek. You can grab after Derek”.

 

Stiles nodded as the game loaded in the station. Erica came out of the bathroom rubbing her hands. Her hair looked shiny, as though she had run her hands through it with water.

 

“Erica, you first?” Boyd handed her the controller.

 

“Only if you play me first.”

 

Returning Erica's smirk, Boyd handed her the first controller.

 

After several rounds of COD (which Erica won for the most part), pizza arrived. Issac handed out plastic plates to everyone. Issac, Boyd, and Stiles chowed down on a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza while Erica stuck to her small veggie pizza. The night went on with a lot of laughs. At about ten o clock, Stiles excused himself to use the washroom. Issac's washroom was full of different hair, skin and acne products lining the sink and tub. More mismatched towels were hung over the back of the door.

 

Picking up his phone, Stiles called Jackson.

 

“Hello?”

 

Stiles could hear the sound of a water fountain running, and someone in the background talking over exercise machines.

 

“It's Stiles. I know you're trying to get some sleep, but I just wanna say that you're a good lacrosse player. You have a lot of strong points in the field and it wasn't right for me to pick on one small thing like that.”

 

“...Thanks, Stilinski?”

 

“You're a great player and a great asset to the band. I just wanted to tell you. I'll let you get back to sleep”.

 

“Okay. Thank you. Bye, Stiles...”

 

Jackson hung up the phone, but Stiles could hear the relief in his tone. Returning to the living room, the trio were laughing about something Issac said. Erica went to throw a pillow at Issac, but missed and hit Boyd. Boyd smirked, tapping Erica with another pillow. Giggling, Stiles joined in on the floor as the rest of the band laughed and smacked each other with pillows. Stiles noticed Boyd glancing at Erica as the rest of the night went on; a gentle smile always on his lips.

 

Stiles laughed the night away along with the group. There was no better way Stiles could imagine spending his evening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws chapter* Merry Christmas.  
> I find myself in the habit of finishing a chapter, writing almost half of the next chapter, and then ditching it for months until I have time to finish it. I have break for a few weeks, so I hope I can finish the next one before school starts again. 
> 
> Thanks again for the comments, and for reading! Drop me a comment, and tell me what you think!
> 
> Seattle was amazing btw. I have so many new ideas. Can't wait to share them with you guys!


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